Whirlwind
by Seriously Sam
Summary: When demonic signs crop up in Lawrence, Sam uncovers his destiny while Dean fights to keep his brother from turning to the darkside. Post 'WIAWSNB'
1. Playing With Fire

Title - Whirlwind

Summary - A glimpse at a life of what could have been comes crashing into reality while Sam and Dean uncover that the dead should really stay dead.

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter One: Playing With Fire"**

Not a lot of things bothered Dean. Not a lot of things surprised him either. With everything that he'd seen in his life, it was pretty easy not to be shocked by anything while on a job - but they were in Lawrence _fucking_ Kansas of all places, and he was freaked out as hell. Dean could feel Sam next to him, frozen with his gun slowly lowering itself. Dean's gun, however, was straight in front of him but he wasn't moving. Out of all the freaky shit Dean had seen from Sammy's visions to the other psychics, this one topped the list hands down.

Ash spoke with them the day before, telling them that there were killings in the area. They were killings right up their alley due to the fact that the one survivor said that this goofy, scary looking kid started hurtling knives at him without ever touching them. Not only that, but signs of the Yellow-Eyed Demon were starting up in the place. That only meant one thing: a telekinetic psychic was out murdering people… again. Figures that of all the places a psychic kid could be, it just had to be Lawrence.

"Max," Sam whispered from behind Dean.

Max Miller, the freak psychic that was dead set on murdering his 'family' and then proceeded to shoot himself in the head via telekinesis. How the hell was he alive? Dean was pretty sure that when they left the residence that the kid was definitely a stiff. In those precious seconds that the brothers stood and stared, Max was faster. When Sam realized what was happening, it was too late. A gunshot rang in the air and a scream of "Dean!" vibrated through the room.

The smoking gun dropped to the floor as Dean fell backward. Sam immediately dropped to his brother's side, Max and the gun long forgotten. The bullet punctured close to the heart, and the blood was spilling out fast. Sam applied pressure, tears threatening to fall down his face. He looked for any indication that Dean was conscious. His eyes were glossed over and looking somewhere over Sam's shoulder.

"Dean, come on. Just hang in there." Sam fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and shakily dialed 911.

"He's holding you back, Sammy," Max whispered. "He's in the way of your destiny. You have no idea how great this destiny is. For once in my miserable life, I am happy! The Yellowed-Eyed Man… he is truly a savior."

Sam felt sick to his stomach as he listened to the other end ring. Finally, an operator picked up and he rambled off where they were and what happened. The phone slipped from his hand as he watched in horror as Max burst into flames before disappearing from the warehouse.

_"Sir? Are you still there? I'm sending an ambulance and the police right now. Try to stay calm and keep applying pressure to the wound if you can."_

**Three Days Earlier**

"Thanks, Bobby, for the heads up," Sam said into his phone as he glared over at Dean in the driver's seat. "Oh, I'll be sure to tell him for you. I'm sure he'll be very proud."

Sam cut the line, his jaw jolting forward as he glared at his older brother who had been more moody than normal after everything that went down in Illinois. Sensing his brother's eyes boring into him, Dean turned his head briefly with a deadpan expression on his face.

"What?"

"That was Bobby."

"Thank-you, Captain Obvious! What'd he want?"

"Our mug shots were on CNN with a nice news report on how dangerous we are."

"So? Who the hell would waste their time watching CNN?"

"Oh, I don't know, Dean, intelligent people who actually care about the world they live in?"

"What crawled in your pants and died?"

"Dean! Our faces were plastered all over the national news!"

"Yeah, my picture was plastered all over the national news with that bank thing but you didn't see anyone turn me in!"

"You just don't get it, do you? We're fugitives. Every time I see a police cruiser, I can't help but think it's the end for us."

"Dude, no one watches CNN. Calm down."

"Millions of people watch CNN, Dean!"

"Yeah, freaks like you."

Sam sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. How Dean could be so nonchalant about the whole thing made Sam want to wring his brother's neck. They were fugitives whose pictures were being broadcasted everywhere as though there was a manhunt going on for the two. They couldn't go anywhere, they couldn't do their job, and Dean didn't seem to get that concept through his thick skull.

"Bobby wanted me to tell you that you looked real cute in your mug shot," he said dryly as he glanced to the left.

"I was damn adorable," Dean said with a smile. "Blue steel. Works every time. I swear it even topped Nick Nolte's mug shot."

"His mug shot wasn't the most flattering picture in the world, Dean."

"It was awesome though. I thought you'd appreciate that picture of him. His hair reminded me a lot of your hair." Dean opened his mouth wide for a laugh to escape.

"Hilarious."

"It's just so natural for me."

"We're lying low for awhile until this whole news report is long forgotten."

"If it'll untwist your panties, then fine. Where to, Doctor Kimble?"

"That's not funny."

"Hey, I'm really looking forward to jumping off a moving train. Don't start crushing my spirits. I'll be Kimble if you want. I always thought I had the rugged good looks of Harrison Ford."

"Ellen said we could stay with her any time," Sam said with a sigh.

With a face and a few protests, Dean turned the car around at his brother's request. By the next morning, driving nearly nonstop, the boys passed from Iowa into Nebraska. By lunch, they were parked outside the familiar saloon. Dean cut the engine and lightly tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he glanced over at his brother.

"So, we're here," he announced.

"Really?" Sam replied.

The younger of the two stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, he made his way to the Roadhouse. Dean groaned before following his kid brother inside. The place was empty except for a stray few hunters who were huddled together in a corner talking in low voices. Ash was shooting trick shots at the pool table but immediately stopped what he was doing when he saw the brothers enter. He started clapping before letting out a whoop.

"Saw you two on the national news!" he said as though it were an accomplishment.

"Uh…" Sam trailed as he looked over to see Dean smiling proudly behind him.

"Did you like my mug shot?"

"Man, that was one sweet ass mug shot," Ash replied.

"I'm surprised you boys didn't get messed up more than you did," Ellen announced as she walked into the bar, "because you two are pretty boys if I've ever seen any."

"Are you trying to flatter me into something?" inquired Dean with a smirk.

"Dean fit in eerily well there and managed to get himself into two fights and a night in solitary confinement," Sam confessed.

"Those fights were Sam's fault, by the way. First, Sam body checks a guy on accident and then goes into a pathetic, sensitive 'I'm so sorry' mode. Yeah, he was going to get his ass kicked into next Tuesday if I didn't intervene. Then the other one, I had to make a distraction so Sam could go salt and burn."

"You boys are welcomed to stay as long as you need. You can bunk together in Jo's room if you like," Ellen offered.

"Okay, sharing with Sammy, I don't mind. Sharing with Sammy in a girl's room with the pink and the ruffles, no thanks. You don't have anything else back there?"

"My two spares already have inhabitants in them. I'm not about ready to kick them out and put them in Jo's room either. So either you bunk in Jo's room or you try to convince Ash to stay with him."

"Uh… no, Ellen, Jo's room is fine," Sam said quickly as he looked uncomfortably at Ash.

"I swear I'll wear some pants if you wanna bunk with me," Ash said sincerely. "Though I do have some pretty, shall we say, intense dreams about a few select ladies who dig the hair."

"We're good. Thanks, Ash," Sam spoke quickly.

"I'll get you boys some beer," Ellen replied with a smirk.

Without Jo around to take care of, Ellen saw it as her duty to make sure the Winchesters were comfortable during their stay. She prepared Jo's room for them, brining in an old cot for one of them to sleep in. She grilled the boys cheeseburgers and fries. Sam couldn't remember the last time he sat down to a nice home cooked meal with his brother. Ellen and Ash joined them. The four of them entertained each other with small talk, Ash asking several questions about prison life only to receive a glare from Ellen.

Jo's old room wasn't as frilly as Dean thought it would be. The room had a green theme to it, lacking any pink. There were no dolls or dollhouses. There was no lacy bedspread or flowers. There was a small collection of stuffed animals situated in a hammock like shelf above the bed. The dressers and vanity were covered in stickers and decals. There was a gigantic bulletin board on the wall opposite of the bed where newspaper articles and journal entries were tacked.

Dean wandered towards the wall and scanned the articles and pictures. His gazed stopped on a journal entry that held his father's familiar handwriting. There was a phone number and several names written on it - Daniel Elkin's being one. Symbols also littered the page.

"Sam, come look at this."

He walked over to look at the piece of paper Dean was pointing to. Sam took it off the board and looked at it closely, recognizing it as a page from John's journal. The brother's glanced at each other before Dean snatched it and shoved the paper into his jean pocket before gazing for anymore on the board. Sam joined in, scanning any piece of paper with writing on it.

"Dean, look," Sam removed another piece of paper. "That's familiar."

"Caleb," he replied. "It's from his journal. The guy couldn't write worth crap."

"Why do you think Jo has them?"

"Some hunter must have shown Dad the Roadhouse, and they must have kept little Joey-Jo company. Dad sure as hell wouldn't come in here by himself. I always thought maybe Caleb was the one to first bring him here because Bobby sure as hell hasn't said anything about this place and Pastor Jim wasn't much for bars."

"Could have been Elkins who brought him here."

"Yeah, maybe, but Dad had a huge falling out with Elkins when I was like… six or seven. Dad didn't start leaving for longer stretches of time until I was like nine or ten."

"So you think that he'd go on a hunt and then just come here?"

"Yeah, something like that. I was about sixteen when the longer hunts stopped. I'm guessing that's when Ellen's husband died, we were roughly sixteen and twelve."

"So Jo would have been around ten when her dad died?"

"I know math wasn't my strong subject, but isn't she like… seventeen or something and not…" Dean paused to count on his fingers.

"Dean, she's twenty-two."

"Damn. Really?"

The brothers searched the bulletin board for more of their father's entries but found none nor did they find any of any hunters they knew. Dean took the cot as Sam took the bed. The next morning, the boys woke up to the smell of crackling bacon and French toast. By the time they made it into the kitchen, Ellen already had plates made out for them at the small table.

"Ash won't be up for a couple hours," she commented.

"You know, Ellen, we could get used to this," Dean replied as he sat down and started to quickly dig in.

"Thank you, but you really don't have to do all of this," Sam said as he took a seat.

"Trust me, boys, without Jo around here to take care of, I need someone to take care of. There's just so long I can cook and clean for Ash. I swear that boy only sticks around for the free food and the fact that I do his laundry. Plus, the work I have him do isn't all that hard. Ash has it all too easy here."

Sam pushed the eggs around his plate as he glanced between his brother and Ellen. Adjusting himself in his chair, Sam turned to his host and debated with himself on whether or not to ask some questions.

"Something on your mind, Sweetie?" she beat him to the punch.

"How'd our dad find this place?"

Dean stopped eating to throw his younger brother a nasty look, the _shut the fuck up or I swear I will beat your ass_ look that he was so found of. Ellen, on the other hand, smiled softly as she collected her thoughts.

"Uh, you boys know Bobby Singer?"

"Bobby never mentioned you," Dean interrupted as he continued to glare at Sam.

"Well, Bobby had that blind loyalty to John. When John stopped coming 'round, Bobby stopped as well. But, uh, Bobby brought John 'round one day. Your daddy and my Bill got along real well, exchanged stories. They hit it off, I guess. So John started coming more often until…"

"Do you know why our dad never brought us here?" asked Sam.

"He talked about you two like you were saints. Even when he'd tell us about the trouble you boys got into, he couldn't have sounded prouder. I asked him once why he never brought you along. He said that he didn't trust people easily after what happened to Mary, and he especially didn't trust all the hunters that would come in here. Some of them were shady, he said, and I guess I can't blame him. I've seen my fair share of hunters I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw them. He told me that he didn't want the wrong people around you two because he couldn't take if anything happened to you boys."

"People like Gordon you mean?"

"Well, your daddy never knew Gordon but yeah, he didn't want you boys messing around with people like him."

"So he knew that long ago about… about kids like me."

"If he did, he never said anything about it. John and I never really talked about hunting anyways. He told me about Mary once and that's why he started, but that was pretty much the extent of hunting talk with us. We talked mostly about how big a pain in the ass our kids were. He always had stories about your good grades or Dean's fights. Anyways, the hunting talk was mainly reserved between him and Bill. They were the ones hell-bent on hunting."

"But you contacted him over a year ago about the demon…"

"I picked up a few conversations between some hunters. It sounded like the thing John was looking for, so I called him to tell him what I overheard. I kept my ears open for things about the demon, because I knew how much it meant to him to get that thing."

"What exactly did you overhear?" Dean spoke for the first time.

"I heard about the raising number of possessions taking place. I heard about the weird weather fluctuations. Just small stuff like that, but you boys already know all of it. It was right after you went to school, Sam, that John called me and asked me to keep my ears open for a few things. It was really the first time we talked since Bill died. A good… six or so years."

"What exactly did he ask you to look out for?"

"Umm… he wanted me to keep tabs on Palo Alto. I actually had Ash do that, check the local papers and such. He also asked to keep my ears open about the demon. He said that it was more dire to get it than before. I'm assuming that when he called me, he must have known about you."

"I can't believe he never told me…" Sam whispered.

Ash stumbled into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers with his homemade laptop in his hands. He took a seat next to Sam as he reached out and grabbed a piece of toast. He nudged the brooding Winchester and pointed to the screen as he ate.

It was a news article about four murders and one attempted murder in Lawrence. The victims all died in different ways: one with a gun, one with a knife, and two were even strangled. The one survivor commented that the guy was in his early twenties and mentally made the knives fly at him.

"You think it's a psychic?" Sam questioned as he scrolled down the article.

"Yep. Last night, the bells and whistles went off on my computer. There was an electrical storm and several cattle mutilations. Not all the signs yet, but they're starting," Ash replied.

"Where?" Dean demanded.

"Lawrence."

Sam was pale and shaking as he looked at his older brother for comfort. Dean cursed softly before getting up and storming towards the bedroom to gather their stuff. Sam stood up and quickly thanked Ellen for everything before starting to go after his brother. Ellen stopped him.

"Sam, listen to me, if you boys need anything, don't hesitate to call. You aren't alone in this, okay? Bobby and I will both be there if you need us."

"Yeah, I can help you too," Ash added as he picked at his food. "If anymore signs crop up, I'll ring ya."

"Thanks." Sam gave a weak smile before leaving to find his brother.

Within five minutes, the boys were in the Impala heading South towards Lawrence. Dean switched on the music, Led Zeppelin blaring so loud that Sam couldn't even think, which he was grateful for. The boys didn't talk to one another, didn't even open their mouths.

By the time they reached Lawrence, it was early the next morning. Dean found the nearest motel so they could rest for a bit and research some more. Sam grabbed the bags from the trunk and allowed his brother to check in. Slightly anxious that the manager would recognize Dean, Sam was ready to throw the bags back in at any moment. He watched his brother step back out into the dawn with a key in one hand.

"What are you doing just standing there, Sparky, let's go."

Sam closed the trunk before following his brother to room six. Dean made a beeline to the nearest bed, collapsing down upon it. He didn't even bother taking off his boots or jacket before situating himself comfortably on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. Sam closed the door softly and then locked it. Setting their bags down on the table, he took out the salt and proceeded to make the lines at every door and window.

"Dean, the manager didn't recognize us, right?" Sam asked as he took off his jacket and then his shoes.

"Nah," the response was muffled.

"You're sure?"

"Dude," Dean picked up his head to stare at his brother, "I said no."

"He could be calling the cops right now, Man. I just don't want to go back to jail. I mean, we're here and we're close."

"Sammy, could you please stop worrying for once? I said we weren't recognized. That guy definitely doesn't bother to watch the news, okay?"

"We should have gone to Missouri or someone who knows us. It would have been a whole lot safer since we're getting so close."

"Dude, I'm sick of being someone's charity case, okay? First Bobby lets us crash at his place after what happened with Dad, then Ellen's all willing to take us in as her cute little puppies, and now you want Missouri to pull that pity act with us? Jesus Christ, Sam, we're old enough to take care of ourselves."

"We have the FBI on our tails, okay? Maybe if you were the least bit concerned, I wouldn't have to worry for the both of us."

"Look, Sam, I'm worried. I am. We have the FBI on us and we were on the national news, I get that. We can't let that stop us. The son-of-a-bitch is coming to Lawrence and he has one of his psychic freaks out there killing people. We have to be at the top of our game and forgot about the FBI for right now."

"_His psychic freaks_?" Sam questioned as his eyes bore into his brother. "Is that what I am to you? One of his psychic freaks?"

Dean sat up and ran a hand over his face. Letting out a sigh, he got off his bed and made his way over to Sam. He reached out, gripped his brother's shoulders, and stared into his eyes.

"No, Dude, okay. You're my annoying baby brother. I didn't mean it like that."

"Dean, if he gets to me, if he changes me… you gotta do it."

"Shut-up, Sam."

"No, Dean, seriously, I don't want to turn out like this kid here killing people with knives and guns. I nearly killed Jo… I can't do it. I can't live with that. I don't want to kill you."

"You're not going to kill anyone if I have anything to say about it, all right? I'm not dyin', you're not dyin', nobody is dyin' except that son-of-a-bitch. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, Dean."

"Good. Get some sleep. When we wake up, we'll do some research on the murders. Then, tonight, we're going to the scene where the last victim was murdered. I wanna see if there's sulfur. Maybe it's not a psychic kid but just a possession."

"Maybe. I haven't had any dreams about this so… maybe."

"Yeah, see, let's just worry about it when we wake up."

Dean forced a smile and patted his brother on the cheek before retreating to his bed. Sam watched his brother for a few minutes before burying himself in his bed and was asleep within seconds.

Author's Notes - This is going to be my first chaptered Supernatural story. It takes place after 'What Is and What Should Never Be' with major spoilers from that episode starting the next chapter. So, I started writing this before the episode actually aired, so I have to go back and fix some things. Sighs If you want updates and to read what changed from the original version (which will be up this weekend) you can join my Yahoo!Group - link's in my profile.


	2. No Illusions

**Note: **I'm not a doctor nor am I even studying in the medicine field. I'm an English major and my extent of the medical profession is from the great medical drama 'Grey's Anatomy'. So if anything dealing with the medical aspect is incorrect, please feel free to let me know so I can change it.

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Two: No Illusions"**

"Dean Cooper. 28. Victim of a gunshot wound to the chest. BP is falling at 70 over 45," a paramedic told the mass of interns and doctors standing in scrubs outside of the ambulance. "Signs of shock are evident. Looks like he'll start bleeding out soon."

Sam watched dazedly as the medical staff rolled his brother off the vehicle. Jumping down from the ambulance, he followed silently. His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest as he watched the nurses and doctors roll Dean into the hospital. He couldn't quite recall what had happened, his mind too numb with worry that something might happen to his brother. He burst through the front doors with the medical staff as he tried to peer around the bodies to catch a glimpse of Dean. He was about to go through another set of double doors when a petite, brunette nurse ran up to him, grabbing his arm gently.

"That's a restricted area," she said softly.

"That - he's my brother. He was shot. I - I need to be with him."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you need to sit down and let the doctors take care of him. As soon as they know something, a doctor will come out and talk to you, okay?"

She gripped his arm a little tighter as she steered him to a chair in the small waiting room. Once seated, she rushed off to the nurses' station before walking back towards Sam with a clipboard and a pen.

"What's your brother's name and date of birth?"

He glanced over at her, the pen ready to jot down whatever he said. His breath hitched in his throat, flashes of their faces on TV. Suddenly, everyone in the hospital was a threat, ready to turn them in at any moment. Sam looked at the nurse, trying to figure out if she was the type of girl who would watch the news religiously.

"Dean… Dean Cooper." He looked down at his hands. "January 24, 1979."

The nurse wrote down the information before looking up at Sam with a warm, encouraging smile planted on her face. He saw that as good sign that she didn't see the news report or didn't recognize him since she wasn't running in fear for her life.

"Do you want me to continue or are you calm enough to fill this out by yourself, Mr. Cooper?"

"I think I can do it. Thanks."

She handed him the clipboard and pen with another smile before standing up. Sam sighed tiredly as he thanked her again. He kept his head low, looking up at her through the fringe of his messy hair. She was peering at him sympathetically but the smile never wavered from her face.

"I have rounds to do, but I'll be back to check on you. Give those forms to Lucy over there when you're done. The police are on their way to take your statement. When that's all done, I'm sure you'll have news on your brother."

"Okay."

"If you need anything, tell Lucy to page me. My name's Savannah."

"Sam."

"All right, Sam, just try to stay calm."

Savannah gave one last smile before walking to the opposite end of the waiting room to talk to an elderly man. They talked briefly before she patted his arm lightly before leaving the waiting room and disappearing down a hallway with several charts tucked neatly under her arm.

Looking around the room, Sam took in everyone, sizing them up slowly. No one was paying attention to him but his stomach clenched none-the-less. Ducking his head, Sam tried to fill out the forms. The words on the form seemed to blur together, not making much sense. How could they expect him to fill out forms when his brother could be dead? _No_, he told himself, _Dean's been through worse_. He tried to get the medical information correct; but over the years his, Dean's, and their dad's medical histories started to blend together. Was it their dad or Dean who was allergic to Penicillin?

Sam looked up. He was breathing hard, and he was vaguely concerned that his lungs were just going to give out. Only ten minutes passed but he could have sworn he'd been sitting in the waiting area for hours. Dragging his eyes back to the form at hand, Sam didn't know how to answer half of the medical questions. Medical history of his grandparents were asked. Hell, he didn't even know his grandparents' names. Medical history of his parents was also asked. His father's history was easy: high blood pressure and sky-high cholesterol - easy to remember because Dean suffered from the same things. Sam, himself, suffered from high blood pressure but was smart enough to watch his diet unlike the rest of his freeloader family. His mother's history, on the other hand, was never known, never talked about.

Discarding the clipboard to the nearest seat, Sam hutched over and placed his head in his hands. Max was out there, alive, and killing. He could remember watching as Max killed himself, the gun spinning around in midair and going off, the kid being shot in the head. Hell, he could hear the ominous _thud_ as the body hit the ground. How the hell did he survive that? They stayed, went to the funeral because Sam had couldn't get over the fact that the first kid they found with powers like him was just dead.

"Mister… Cooper, isn't it?"

Sam looked up through the fringe of his hair. The brunette nurse - Savannah, wasn't it? - was back with a sympathetic smile gracing her features and a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. She offered the Styrofoam cup to him which he gratefully took.

"Thanks. Any news on my brother?"

"Um… I know he's in surgery right now. I know you're worried, but I don't know anything else." She took a seat next to him. "He's in very good hands. On the board, it said that Doctors Harrington and Burke are his surgeons. Doctor Burke is one of the best cardiac doctors in Kansas and Doctor Harrington is the chief, so she's good as well."

Sam nodded, taking a long sip of the smoldering hot coffee. He glanced over at the nurse next to him who seemed more than content to sit next to him all day. Sam could recount most hospital visits but could never recall anyone finding it as their job to sit with the family of a patient, someone who crossed the line and became so emotionally involved. He was slightly shocked she was never fired. A small smile passed his face, a chuckle escaping through his lips.

"Oh, that's Jason Preston and Bill Harlow. They went to high school with me," Savannah said lazily.

He looked around the small waiting room to see two male police officers chatting with a young candy striper. She laughed at something one of the officers said before she pointed in the direction of Sam and Savannah. The cops smiled at the girl, the bigger of the two saying something that caused the young girl to groan. Sam sat straighter in his seat as he mentally went through the story in his head.

There was a way that Sam and Dean made their stories up - a system of which details to tell truthfully and which to slide over with a smooth lie. The Winchester boys had been drilled when they were younger, taught how to cover each other's backs if a situation like this ever occurred. They were taught to think like each other, taught to be one and not two.

"Savvy, this the kid involved with the gunshot victim?" the smaller of the two asked, his blonde hair plastered on his forehead.

"Yeah, this is Sam Cooper. Sam, this is Officer Harlow," she pointed to the smaller man and then proceeded to point to the taller one, "and that is Officer Preston."

Sam stood up, towering over the taller of the two officers by a good three inches. He extended his hand to each man, shaking firmly with a weary smile planted on his face. _Always act polite even if they're asses_, his father's words of advice rand in his head.

"Sam Cooper," the name rolled off his tongue, "my brother Dean was shot."

"Do you know who the gunman was?" asked Harlow as he took out a notepad from his jacket.

"Umm… some kid in his early twenties. He looked around my age," Sam said easily. "I'm not from around here. My brother and I are just passing through."

"Where are you heading to?" Harlow pressed.

"Just a road trip. We've been staying with family members, seeing the country, having some great brotherly bonding until now."

"You were picked up at the abandoned plastics warehouse. Care to tell me what you two were doing there?" Preston took his turn in the interrogation.

"We were out at this bar - playing some pool and darts. We were walking back to our car when this kid comes up to us with a gun, gets in the backseat and tells us to drive. My brother did what he was told. We got to this warehouse, and he told us to get out of the car. Dean, my brother, he tried to get the gun away from the kid but was shot."

"Why didn't he shoot you?" Harlow questioned.

"He seemed pretty freaked out. I don't think he meant for it to go as far as it did. As soon as my brother went down, the kid ran."

The officers nodded, asked for a description of the kid. Sam described Max as best as he could, pausing to think several times to make it seem believable. He added a few 'I thinks' to the mix as well. Sam shifted his weight, a knot in his chest growing the longer the officers questioned him. Surely, out of all the people in Lawrence, the cops would be the ones to recognize him. He held his head up high, confident, to try to sway away any misgivings he might give to the cops.

After a good five more minutes of questioning, a surgeon walked into the waiting room. The guy scanned the small room, and Sam knew immediately the doctor was looking for him. He excused himself quickly from the officers before walking towards the surgeon.

"Mister… Cooper?" he asked.

"How's Dean?"

"The bullet grazed a major artery which caused an extensive amount of bleeding. The artery was able to be repaired and the bleeding stopped. He's very weak and on a lot of pain medication, but he should be just fine."

Sam nodded dumbly, a smile crossing his face allowing his dimples to show. He thanked the doctor, a slight weight from his shoulders lifting off. Dean was fine. Now, all they needed to do was get out of the hospital before someone got suspicious enough of them to call the FBI. The last thing Sam and Dean needed was Henriksen flooding the hospital with Max out there killing people.

"Can I see him?"

"I'd like to ask you a few questions first, if that's all right. I know you want to see your brother, but there were some… things that concerned me during the surgery."

"Sure, go ahead."

"How old is your brother?"

"Twenty-eight… why?"

"Your brother he had scar tissue on his heart, most commonly due to a heart attack. It's peculiar because his heart shows no sign of weakness. His heart looks healthy and functions as though he'd never had a heart attack in his life, but there are signs of one."

"Uh… about a year ago he was electrocuted and suffered a heart attack. The doctors gave him a full bill of health."

"A man his age must have had one serious shock."

"My brother is… a fast healer."

"Any other accidents I should know about?"

"Earlier in the year, we were in a car accident, but the doctors said he made a full recovery." Sam licked his lips. "Can I see my brother now?"

The doctor nodded, pointing him in the right direction and telling him that Dean wouldn't be awake for a couple hours. Upon entering the room, Sam wasn't prepared to see his brother looking the way he did. He's seen Dean hurt before, on the brink of death, but after all of that it still scared the shit out of him. He was white, his face blending in with the sheets underneath him. Dean looked so small and vulnerable that it made Sam's chest tighten.

Closing the space between them, Sam sat down in the chair next to the bed. He reached out, grasping his brother's hand in his own carefully as to not disturb the IV needle. Jaw tightening, tears blurring his vision, Sam tried not to think about what a close call it was _again_. He tried not to think that it _could_ have been the last time he saw his brother, spoke with him, hunted with him. There were a million things he wanted to say but never got around to them. There was always an excuse not to say something to Dean and only reason to.

"Dean," he whispered as he tightened his grip on his brother's hand, "I'm so sorry."

He lost track of the time, couldn't say how long he sat there staring at his brother willing for him to wake up. After nearly losing Dean after the Impala crashed, Sam thought that perhaps his brother wouldn't wake up just like before. Finally, Dean stirred, a moan forming at his lips and a twitch of the hand clasped beneath Sam's. Turning his head, he looked straight at his little brother with his brow furrowed.

"Sam…my?" he rasped.

"You had heart surgery," he replied quickly. "The bullet hit an artery."

"Max?"

"He left after you were shot…"

"Whaa?"

"Dean, Max, he, uh, went up in flames."

The older Winchester only nodded before slipping into sleep once more. Sam whispered his brother's name but got no response. Leaning back into the uncomfortable chair, Sam contently watched his brother sleep. A little more weight on his chest seemed to lift. Dean was fine. He was going to be as good as new. Now, they had to get out of the hospital as subtly as possible.

Several hours passed, before Dean began to stir again. He was more lucid than the last time, more aware of what was going on around him. Sam explained the surgery, and Max's great escape. Dean listened, nodding his head a few times, but refused to speak on the matter.

"Dean… what are we going to do?"

"Max went all Human Torch?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"That's what 'bursting into flames' means, Dude."

"So, what, he was possessed you think?"

"He's dead. We watched him kill himself."

"What if he wasn't dead? What if it was just a ruse?"

With a scrunched up face, Sam let out a groan. There was no way that watching a twenty-two year old kid shooting himself in the head could be a ruse. He didn't care just how powerful this demon was; Sam was convinced that he couldn't raise the dead.

"Necromancy?" Dean suggested.

"Max didn't have family or friends… who would resurrect him?"

"The Demon."

"Dean, come on. The Demon is going to raise the dead?"

"Sammy, he probably can't, yeah, but I bet he has some friends who could," he reasoned. "I was as good as dead. The reaper was after me, but Dad made that deal to bring me back."

"Yeah, but the reaper never actually got to you. Who's to say that if the reaper did get to you, that you would still be here? Plus, Max would have came back all wrong."

"Dude, he freakin' shot me! He's out there killing people!"

"Max was a murderer before he died. If he did come back from the dead, why didn't he kill me? Dean, he talked to me lucidly… remembered me. He…"

"Oh, I get it."

"What?"

"You don't want it to be the Demon that resurrected Norman Bates; because that means that if you die, he could bring you back. He could make you do his dirty work. Hell, I think that you don't even want it to really be Max."

"No, Dean, I don't want it to really be Max!"

Dean adjusted himself on the bed, hissing in pain slightly. His eyes were drooping, his pale face suddenly becoming whiter than before. Fighting back sleep, he looked up at his kid brother.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Dean wheezed, "go dig up the kid."

"I'm not leaving you here, in Lawrence of all places, by yourself in the hospital after that stunt in Arkansas. Forget it."

"Call Bobby… see if he'll do it."

"Jo's closer," Sam reasoned.

Holding up a hand, Dean shook his head. Sam faltered, puzzled by his brother's negative reaction. Sure, the girl was an amateur but she could use the practice at perfecting the fine art of grave desecration.

"I don't trust her. Call Bobby."

"Dude, why don't you trust Jo?"

"Look, someone told Gordon about you, confirmed what he heard from a demon. Three people knew about you at the Roadhouse: Ellen, Ash, and Jo. Ellen's ruled out. She seems like the trustworthy kind of gal who feels sorry for the orphan boys. Ash is cool. He's like a friend or something. Jo, however, is a loose cannon. You saw how upset she was with us about something our dad did. You saw how she ran away from home just because Ellen was trying to protect her amateur ass. Ellen told you that we should stay away from Gordon, that he was trouble. Why would she be so hostile to the guy?"

"Because something happened with Jo?"

"I think Gordon took little Joey-Jo out on some hunts against Ellen's wishes. I think they're close and that pisses Ellen off since he's a dangerous son-of-a-bitch."

"That's circumstantial evidence, Dean."

"Oh, College Boy, you're using lawyer talk on me now?" He sighed with a shake of the head. "Who the hell else would rat you out to Gordon? Let me tell you something, Sammy, he's a smooth talker. You start telling him things that you wouldn't tell anyone else. It just happens. I don't think she meant to, but I think she did."

"What did you two talk about that you couldn't talk to anyone else about?"

Dean shook his head slightly before shrugging off Sam's question nonchalantly. It pissed Sam off that his brother could talk to a psycho hunter but not his little brother about things. Was it really that difficult to talk to him about things? They were family, brothers - hell, they were best friends.

"I don't want Jo involved. She's an amateur. She'll only get hurt and get in our way."

Sam was about to protest when the door to the room opened. It was Savannah with a warming smile planted on her face as she looked between the brothers. Sam looked down at Dean to see a panicked look on his face. He tried to sit up, letting out a hiss out pain as he did so. Sam's hands flung out, trying to push his brother back down on the bed. Dean was breathing heavily, his body tense and rigid. His green eyes flew between Sam and then Savannah.

"Mister Cooper, it's good to see you out of surgery. Your brother was quite the handful," she said softly, her smiling fading slightly at the reaction she was getting.

"You're not real!" Dean shouted.

"Dean-"

"No, she's… she was in my head…" he whispered as he struggled against Sam. "She's not real, Sammy."

"I, uh, I think he's hallucinating," Sam announced as he desperately stared at Dean.

Savannah nodded briefly before exiting the room. Sam tried to question his brother on what he was thinking, but the older Winchester shook his head violently. The nurse walked back into the room with a doctor in tow.

"Just something to keep him calm," the doctor said with a tight smile.

He injected a needle into the IV and almost immediately, the tension in Dean's body started to ease. He groggily looked up at his brother, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain that it made Sam's chest ache. Reaching out a hand, Sam brushed his brother's hair back as he glanced up at Savannah who was standing idly by the door.

"Sammy… s'not real…"

"Shh, go to sleep, Dean."

"S'not… Car…"

Sam patted his brother gently on the shoulder as he looked up at Savannah. He stared at her, trying to comprehend what Dean meant. How couldn't she be real? She was standing right in front of them, talking, doing her job. Glancing back down at his brother, Sam's lips drew in a thin line.

"I didn't mean to upset him…" Savannah trailed off.

"Wasn't your fault," he replied as he followed her out of the small hospital room.

"I'll, um, check on you and your brother later if that's all right?"

"That'd be great. Thanks. I gotta go make a phone call. Excuse me."

Sam walked back to the waiting room. Pulling out his cell phone, he turned it on. After booting up, he dialed Bobby's number. Sitting down in the far corner of the room, Sam tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Bobby's familiar voice filled the phone. Sam was about ready to talk when he realized he got the voice mail.

"Bobby, it's Sam. Look, Dean and I got involved in some pretty heavy stuff. We need you to go to Saginaw for us. We're… Dean's in the hospital. He's fine. He'll be all right. We just… I can't leave Dean here all by himself, and I really need you to check on something up there. So just, give me a call as soon as possible. Thanks."

Sam ended the call. He felt defeated and was worried sick about his brother. His eyes glanced around the small waiting room looking to see if anyone was acting suspiciously. Satisfied that no one recognized him yet, Sam made his way back to Dean's room to sit with him.

Author's Notes - So, I'm actually really relieved about last night's season finale. This story is actually based on what I thought would happen in the season finale, and I was totally wrong so I won't have to make changes to the plot. I'm so happy to be Kripke'd. Anyways, don't forget to review and tell me what you think. I need the feedback to help tone my writing skills.


	3. Goody, Like Two Shoes

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Three: Goody, Like Two Shoes"**

He could see her smile, smell her scent, hear her laughter. She had been imprinted into his mind ever since the _dream_. She wasn't real though, just a model in a beer ad and a constant reminder of what he had given up in his life - what they had all given up. Dean opened his eyes and glanced to his right to see Sammy slouched in an uncomfortable chair next to the bed, his mouth hanging slightly open with soft snores emitting from his mouth.

His throat itched, dry from the oxygen tubes shoved up his nose. He felt a cough rising but held it back so he wouldn't disturb his younger brother. Sam looked so peaceful, the tension all but gone from his body. He was finally getting a well-deserved rest.

The door to the room opened and in stepped the woman who had been haunting Dean's dream since the incident with the Djinn. She smiled warmly at him, her black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She looked just like he remembered her, everything down to the way she looked at him and the way she subtly swayed side to side when she walked.

"Doing better?" she whispered when she got close to him.

"Yeah." He nodded dumbly as he stared up at her.

He thought about her a lot, wondered if he actually would ever meet her. He wondered if she would be anything like she was in his _dream_. She wasn't her though, couldn't be, shouldn't be real. By all means, she shouldn't be standing in front of him being a nurse. He saw her picture in the magazine, in a beer ad no less. She wasn't what she was claiming to be, couldn't be. It was all some cruel joke. There was no other explanation.

"Carmen?" he asked hopefully.

"What? No. I'm Savannah. My friends call me Savvy," she replied as she looked at him oddly.

"Porter?"

"No, Kline."

Savannah grabbed his chart and started jotting down some information, every now and then glancing up at Dean. He took notice of that, trying to figure out maybe if he got her mistaken with Carmen. There was no way that some beer model was actually here in Lawrence as a nurse just like in that reality the Djinn induced in his head.

"You just look like-"

"The girl in the Carmen Porter swimwear collection ads," she said with a small smirk, "or perhaps just the girl in the El Sol beer ads?"

"Must be it," Dean said in a soft voice.

"I get that a lot," Savannah replied, "I do some photo spreads to pay off my student loans and all the male patients seem to think they know me."

"What jerks."

A grin passed the nurse's face as she closed the chart in front of her. She glanced over at Sam before turning her attention back to Dean. He watched her intently; everything about her was the same as it was in his screwed up alternate reality. Could it had been the truth? If Mary never died, would he have wound up with her? Would they had been happy together like they were in the dream? Dean's chest tightened the longer he stared at her, the longing for a normal life seeping in. The yearning for staying in the Djinn reality intensifying

"You do know you just called yourself a jerk?" she asked with a smile that made her eyes dance in excitement.

"Never said I wasn't one. I'm sure Sammy would agree."

"You know, um, you look familiar. I swear I've seen you before, but I can't place where." The smile left her face as she stared back at him. "Have we met before? Maybe went to the same high school or college? Did you pick me up in a bar, because, you know, I do have pretty low standards?"

The last comment burned in his mind. He could hear Carmen saying it to him at the dinner table. He could hear the sarcasm in her voice, the joking banter that felt like he'd never went a day without hearing it. Her saying that, with that playful tone in her voice, convinced him that it couldn't be happening. The whole situation was just too weird.

"Nah, I would remember meeting someone like you," Dean said as he pushed back the lump that formed in his throat.

"That's comforting to know. Perhaps when you leave, you'll remember I'm Savvy and not Carmen."

"I don't think that would be a problem considering you're you and I'm me. Maybe once I blow this joint, we could…"

Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she gripped the chart tightly in her arms. A smile crept up on her face as she turned her head to the side. Once her gaze found its way back onto his pale face, Dean held up a hand. She wasn't _just_ some girl. Even though he was convinced it was one big, cruel joke, Dean couldn't help but hold on to that slim possibility that it was merely fate that they were together.

"Inappropriate," he whispered, "I know. I'm such an ass."

"A very… adorable ass."

"Are you talking about my behind or my behavior? I was talking about my behavior, you know."

"Mister Cooper!"

Her laughter caused Sam to stir in his seat. He looked up at her before turning his attention to his brother. Figures Dean would be flirting with the first nurse he saw after surgery. Just typically actually. Sam sat up straighter, wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he gave his older brother a quick once over.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Savannah apologized.

"Don't worry about it." He waved it off. "How's my brother doing?"

"His vitals are stable. He doesn't seem to be in much pain, so I'm assuming the dosage of pain medication we have him on is just enough. He's still a bit pale, but I'm sure once he gets stronger his face will perk up and regain some color."

"I'm right here, you know," Dean interrupted as he stared at the nurse.

"He's lucid as well, so that's a very good sign," she spoke to Sam in the all too common playful tone, "talking and comprehending. There may just be hope for him yet."

"Thanks. When's the doctor going to be in?" Sam inquired.

"The interns should start their rounds in about an hour. If you have any questions, the intern will most likely be able to answer it." She directed her attention to Dean. "If you need anything, just press that button behind your bed and I'll get here as soon as I can."

She deposited the chart in its spot at the foot of the bed before walking out of the room to finish her rounds. Sam turned to his brother with _the expression_ on his face. That annoyed, bitch-face expression that Sammy was so fond of using. Dean let out a sigh before closing his eyes and pretending not to have seen _the look_ plastered on his brother's face.

"So yesterday, you scream about that nurse not being real and today you're laughing together like you're old friends?"

Dean quirked open an eye to glance over at his brother. With another sigh, he turned his head to look at his little brother. Sometimes, every once and a while, Dean wished that his brother could just let things go - that his brother wouldn't pressure him to talk about everything and anything. Just once, Dean would like Sam to suggest they crush beer cans with their foreheads or get shit drunk. Instead, his younger brother asked him to _talk_ to _share their feelings_.

"I mistook her for someone else," he replied as he tried to keep his voice as indifferent as possible but it was obvious that it shook slightly.

"Who?"

"Ah, come on, Sammy, no one."

"Dean!" Sam pushed as his brother groaned. "She seemed to affect you a lot yesterday!"

"She was there... in my Djinn reality," he started. "We were… living together in Lawrence."

Sam faltered as the pathetic, wounded puppy look crossed his face. Dean felt his jaw tighten. He knew that his brother was going to ask a million questions now, prod him to talk about it, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't want to talk about what he lost by coming back to his reality. Hell, if he didn't have Sammy, Dean would have gladly died in some musty old warehouse in some happy induced sleep.

"Don't give me that look," he demanded before Sam could open his mouth.

"What look?"

"The pathetic, I'm a wounded puppy look."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, did you get in contact with Bobby? Is he going to Michigan?"

"I left him a voicemail. I'm sure he'll get back to me."

"Look, both of us shouldn't be in this hospital while Max is out there killing people. Why don't you go out and look for him before he hurts someone else."

"Dude, no. I'm not leaving you here by yourself."

"I got my freaky Djinn nurse girlfriend to look out for me. Get out of here, Sammy, I don't need you staring at me the whole day. Just, come back later, okay? Bring me some food too: some coffee, a cheeseburger, and pie."

"You want me to sneak in a greasy cheeseburger, a desert, and a high caffeine drink?"

"A greasy cheeseburger with extra onions." Dean flashed a smile.

"Dean, I feel uncomfortable leaving you alone while I go hunting," Sam reasoned. "In fact, I feel really uncomfortable hunting Max, a human being, by myself."

"Dude, come on, you're going to be twenty-four in a few weeks. Get over it. Plus, Max probably isn't human anymore."

"Probably?"

"I'm pretty damn sure he's not. Bobby will find out once he digs up the grave."

Sam leaned back in his chair as he looked at his older brother. With everything that was happening, there was no way that they could split up now. When Sam didn't move, Dean let out a groan. He reached out and attempted to swat his younger brother away.

"Get going!"

"Max is back from the dead… and the demon probably has something to do with it. We also have the FBI on our asses. You want me to leave you here after heart surgery to go hunting? What happens when an intern or a doctor or a nurse makes the connection that we were on TV? That we're on America's Most Wanted list for a dozen and a half different crimes? How are you going to fend for yourself?"

"Sammy, I'm not an invalid."

Before Sam could retort, his cell phone went off. Digging into his jacket pocket, he quickly pressed the _talk_ button before putting it to his ear. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Sam heard Bobby's familiar voice on the other end announcing that he just entered Saginaw and asked where to go without bombarding him with questions.

"Saginaw Cemetery. There's a grave, Max Miller, it needs to be dug up. We don't know for sure if there is a body, probably not though."

_"What do you mean you don't know if there's a body?"_

"He's… a psychic… telekinetic. He died last year. Dean and I saw him commit suicide. Anyways, the weird thing is… he's in Lawrence killing people. He shot Dean."

There was silence on the other end, and Sam wondered if Bobby hung up. He called the older hunter's name only to hear him clear his throat to acknowledge he was still there. A long, shaky breathe escape the older man's lips.

_"You boys really know how to pick them. You're in Lawrence you say? Kansas?"_

"The one and only."

_"Where are you?"_

"The hospital - Lawrence General."

_"With Dean incapacitated, I don't want you hunting this thing by yourself. Give me a day and I'll be there to go with you."_

"You know what's going on."

_"Not exactly, but I have a good idea. This war, Sam, it's started and there is no time to screw around or play heroics. You wait for me, you hear me? You're a psychic, Sam, one that this Demon is looking to get. You can't go hunting it by yourself because you'll be vulnerable to him."_

"Call me when you get here then."

The line went dead and Sam wasn't even sure Bobby heard him. He turned his attention to Dean who was waiting to hear what the hunter had to say. Sam told him quickly, a smug smile on his face when he said Bobby told him not to hunt by himself. Dean shrugged as he tried to settle in the bed.

"You're leaving as soon as Bobby gets here though."

"Yeah… sure, Dean."

Sam refused to leave Dean's side, even long after visiting hours were over. With a smile and a hint of charm in his voice, Sam managed to convince the night nurses to let him stay with his brother much to Dean's dismay. The next afternoon, Bobby walked into hospital room. He quickly looked Dean up and down before taking a chair next to Sam.

"Ash looked you boys up on the database, said your name was Cooper?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, "it was the only insurance card we have left after the whole jail fiasco."

"Please, Bobby, tell me you told the nurses you were our uncle Alice Cooper," Dean pleaded with a smirk on his face.

"Not my kind of music, Dean." He leaned back into the chair. "Did say I was your uncle though, but I stayed with Bobby."

"That's great," Dean replied shortly. "Now, you two get going and keep me updated."

"Dude, I feel really uncomfortable leaving you here by yourself," interrupted Sam.

"I told you, I have my freaky girlfriend here."

"Yeah, who knows nothing about you! Hell, she could be calling the FBI right now!"

"Boys," Bobby called, "mind kicking it down a notch? You're as bad as you were when you two were teenagers - always bickering at each other about the stupidest things. You want to try acting like adults here?"

"Dean, what are you going to do if someone recognizes you?" he chose to ignore the oldest hunter's comment.

"I'll haul ass, okay, Mother Goose? You happy?"

"How are you going to haul ass?"

"Sammy, I swear if you don't stop asking me questions-"

"Good morning!" a female voice rang.

The hunters turned to see Savannah making her way into the room with the smile planted on her face like earlier. Dean froze when he saw her, unable to carry on the argument with his brother any longer. Sam and Bobby looked between Dean and the nurse, noting the way he longingly looked at her.

"Looks like more family came," she commented.

"Bobby… Cooper. I'm the boys' uncle."

He stood up and shook Savannah's hand. She greeted him before turning her attention back to Dean. She grabbed his chart and flipped through the papers, jotting down information as she went. Dean tore his eyes away from Savannah to look at his brother.

"Get going. I'll see you later."

"Dean-"

"Not now, Sammy. Just… do what needs to be done," he whispered.

"I'll have my cell on at all times. Call me if you need anything."

"Gotcha."

Bobby left the room, waiting in the doorframe for the reluctant youngest Winchester. He stared at his brother, slightly pleading him not to do anything stupid and get them caught. Glancing quickly at Savannah, he slowly started to back out of the room. Once he reached Bobby, the two hunters disappeared.

"Family… can't live with them and you can't live without them," Savannah commented. "My siblings and I are the same exact way. It seems like you either are overprotective of them or indifferent, you know what I mean?"

Dean nods because he doesn't know exactly what to say. There are a thousand thoughts running through his mind, hundreds of things he wants to say to her but just doesn't have the heart to say them. He can picture her clearly naked beside him, leaning in to kiss him, her standing next to Jessica and laughing like they were the oldest of friends. His mind would snap and see her posing in a magazine and everything he thought he knew was suddenly gone.

"Tell me about your family," Dean insisted before Savannah had a chance to leave.

He wanted her to become real with a history, a family. He had to stop thinking of her as that girl in the magazine or the girl in his fucked up reality and more along the lines of that nurse that could possibly be his future. The thought of her being his future tasted bitter. There's no way he could abandon the hunt, especially with everything happening with Sammy and the Yellow-Eyed Demon. He couldn't just throw in the towel after his father spent over twenty years seeking revenge upon Mary. It was so tempting though. The thought of waking up to her every day seemed right. The thought of mowing the lawn, working at a garage, Sammy at law school… it was a secret longing that Dean never dared mentioned he ever felt. To be normal - that was Sam's dream.

"Umm… okay," she agreed as she took a seat at the edge of his bed, "I have a younger brother in college who's studying to be teacher. I have an older sister who's a doctor and an older brother who died about five years ago in a car crash. My mom owns a bakery and my dad's a retired cop. Your turn."

"Got a pain in the ass little brother who you've met. Our parents… they're dead. It's just mainly me and my brother."

"And your uncle?"

"Yeah, I guess. He's been great since our dad died."

"I'm sorry to hear about your dad."

"The old bastard didn't go down without a fight," Dean said sadly as he looked away from her to stare at a wall as guilt flooded him.

"So, what do you and Sam do for a living?"

"I, uh, work at my uncle's salvage yard," he replied. "Sam just got out of college… pre-law. He's looking at law schools now."

"Oh, he's a big shot then," she commented with her words dipped in amusement.

"Something like that. We're on a road trip before he buckles down with the books and the classes."

Meanwhile, across town, Bobby parked his truck outside of the warehouse where Dean was shot. Sam led the older hunter around the back to see the Impala still parked where they left it. Going over to the muscle car, Sam lifted the trunk and quickly typed in the familiar code to the weapon compartment. He pulled out a pistol and tucked it in the back of his jeans. The grabbed a vial of holy water and some salt before they made their way through the yellow police tape and into the warehouse.

There was a section on the floor covered in blood - Dean's blood. Sam hadn't noticed before just how much his brother bled until he saw the remnants on the floor. As Sam stared at the blood, Bobby made his way around the warehouse looking for any clues on what exactly they were hunting.

"This Max kid's body was gone," he announced as ran his finger across a windowsill. "There were claw marks on the casket though. It looks like he dug himself out of there."

"So you're thinking necromancy?" Sam inquired, snapping out of his reverie. "Bobby, Max was a loner. He didn't have friends and his family didn't like him very much. He went psychotic… killed his father and uncle because they abused him. Trust me, I can't think of anyone who would go to that trouble."

"No, it wasn't necromancy. There was sulfur in the casket. A demon raised him, but that doesn't make sense. Demons can't bring the dead back alive unless a deal is made."

"So… a Crossroads Demon was involved?"

"I had Ash check into this kid's history, Sam. There are no records of him ever being close to anyone. No credit card charges for restaurants or the movies. The kid didn't seem to have a social life at all according to the charges. I mean, sure the kid could have had friends and such but by the way you're talking about it… it seems unlikely."

"Are there loopholes? Can a demon bring back someone without a deal?" Sam questioned. "Some demon that's so big and bad that holy water and salt doesn't affect them?"

"You talking about the thing John was hunting?" Bobby inquired in an odd tone. "I don't think. Rules are rules. Demons follow patterns, not break them."

"But it's possible?"

"Demons can't bring the dead back without a mortal asking them to, not without a deal. I'd say it's near impossible."

"Then how the hell is Max alive? You'd think he'd be wrong... but he's still the same messed up kid who thinks the Yellow-Eyed Demon is a savior of sorts."

"I don't know much about this psychic crap, only that you have death visions but it's different for everyone. Tell me everything you know."

"Our powers all started around our twenty-second birthday. We all got headaches and then… our abilities started. They're building, getting stronger as time goes by. The Yellow-Eyed Demon did it. He goes to these psychics, tells them he has plans for them."

"He came to you? Told you that?"

"When Dad was kidnapped. Dean and I went to get him. The Yellow-Eyed Demon possessed him… he attacked Dean, hurt him pretty bad. He told me he had plans for me and all the children like me." Sam swallowed hard. "You think this is his plan?"

"I'm betting on it."

Author's Notes - So the third chapter is now up. I have to say, I'm more than disappointed I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter. Does anyone even want me to continue or am I just wasting my time? Please review and tell me what you think. Feedback - either positive or negative - is welcomed.


	4. Soldier's Poem

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Four: Soldier's Poem"**

Unlocking the motel door, Sam walked in the room and threw his bag onto the floor. Bobby wasn't far behind, looking slightly taken back by the motel room. Sam did have to admit, the décor was very '70 porn movie. Then again, the brothers stayed at weirder places. Bobby discarded his bags on Dean's bed but Sam tried not to let it bother him. Dean was getting better. It was only a gunshot wound and heart surgery after all. Sam laughed bitterly. He was out hunting while his brother was in the hospital. What kind of twisted life did they live?

"You boys know Missouri, don't you?" asked Bobby.

"Dean didn't want her charity."

"You Winchesters always think that receiving even the littlest of help automatically means you're a charity case."

"So, Dean. It's been almost seven hours since I've seen him. I'm going to go take him some food, see how he's doing."

"Sam, it's in the middle of the night. Take a shower, get some rest, and go see him first thing in the morning. You being exhausted isn't going to help Dean or help this hunt."

Meanwhile, across town, Dean sat propped up by pillows in his hospital bed. A dull pain ached his chest, but he pushed it aside and concentrated on the woman sitting on the end of the bed. She surveyed the hand of cards in front of her, glancing up at Dean every now and then. Taking two cards out of her hand, she sat them down on the small tray separating them and drew two more.

"I am a professional when it comes to poker, Darling," Dean said with a smirk as he stared at the full house in his hand - two queens and three tens.

"Go ahead, Dean, be cocky."

A smile graced her features, lighting up her whole face. That's one of the things Dean loved about her, the way she always seemed to have some sort of smile or smirk plastered across her face. He loved the way sarcasm laced her words, the way her voice was soft and smooth. He loved the fact that she'd ditch her job just to play a couple hands of poker with him. The fact that she loved poker in itself and knew how to play filled him with a weird feeling, a feeling like she was the one. Carm- no, Savannah was the one for him. That his whole life of hunting evil and having one-night stands could all come to an end for her.

"I raise you my pudding cup," Dean spoke softly.

"Wow, the pudding is the best food in all the hospital," Savannah chuckled. "I'll accept your pudding offer and raise it with my trusty penlight."

She pulled out a penlight from her breast pocket, waving it seductively in front of Dean. He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, as she smiled at him again. The conversation, the movements, the way it felt… Dean wasn't sure if he could go back to his life before Savannah.

"Seriously? A penlight? I just added the best food in the hospital up to winner, and you put up your lousy penlight?"

"Not just any penlight but my official nurses' penlight."

"Oh, yeah right, like that makes a different. It's a stupid penlight."

"Fine." Savannah reached into her pocket and pulled out two mints. "I'll add these mints with the penlight."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"You have hospital food breath, Dean, of course you need the mints."

He laughed, his chest burning as he did so. Looking at her for several long seconds, Dean laid his hand down onto the tray, a small smirk filling out his face. She tore her eyes away to look at the hand she would have to beat and looked mildly surprised. Looking back up at him, she kept a strong poker face on as she glanced down at her hand one more time.

"Full house. Beat that."

"Four of a kind," Savannah commented with a smile as she revealed her four eights. "Guess you're not as much of a professional as you were claiming to be."

"I let you win," Dean said quickly. "I already kicked your ass twice, I couldn't make it three. I'm too kind."

"Oh, yeah right, Mister Big Shot Professional. My uncle taught me to play when I was five."

"You just got lucky. It was fluke."

"I'm getting lucky a lot lately it seems. Tell you what. You can keep the mints. You need them more than me." Savannah got off the bed and stretched a little. "I gotta go finish my rounds because it's Thursday and I actually have the nightshift. I'm not just hanging around to keep your sorry ass company. You, Mister Cooper, take up too much of my time. Where is that overprotective, younger brother of yours anyways? He needs to take you off my hands."

At the mention of Sammy, Dean's mind wandered to the hunt and what exactly happened earlier that day. In fact, he hadn't heard anything from Sam since he left with Bobby that afternoon. Pushing off the concern, deciding to wait until the morning to start panicking, Dean forced a weak smile on his face.

"Told him to get the hell out and stop hovering over me."

"You're lucky, you know, to have someone that hovers."

"It's annoying."

"He cares, Dean. He obviously cares a lot about you. What more can you want in a little brother?"

"One that doesn't act like a girl all the time with his angst-ridden crap."

"You don't mean that."

Dean shrugged slightly, taking his eyes off Savannah. Sam could get on his nerves, but he couldn't imagine life without his little brother. When he went off to college, leaving just Dean and his dad to do the hunting, Dean didn't know how long he could make it without his little brother. He'd turn to the backseat of the Impala to say something to Sam only to realize he wasn't there. He couldn't even count the amount of times he started to dial Sam's cell phone before hanging up. When Sam was gone, Dean didn't know what to do with himself. His job, his sole purpose in life, was suddenly gone and Dean didn't know how to deal with that.

"Maybe not but I just hate when he hovers. He's always been like that since we were kids. I'd get sick or my dad and he'd play doctor, you know? Surprised he never even thought about going to medical school. He, uh, wanted to be a lawyer."

"Wanted to be? What happened? I thought he was looking into law schools?"

"He was. Had an interview all set up and everything. I, uh, convinced him to leave school," Dean said sadly. "Family business. Anyways, his girlfriend died when we were away. Sam, he uh, he packed up and we started this road trip, you know? He could have… I fucked my life up and I guess lying in the hospital for the past couple days I've started to realize that I fucked his life up to, you know? He's a smart kid. He should be some hot shot lawyer student at Stanford and getting on the waiting list to a pricy law firm."

"Sam wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be," Savannah spoke softly. "When you were in surgery, I saw him sitting all by himself in the waiting room looking about ready to have a panic attack. I went over to him and asked if he needed anything because… I don't know why I went over to him actually. I was just sort of drawn. He looked like a mess, Dean. There was nowhere in the world he wanted to be but here."

"Yeah, maybe."

"You're very guilt-ridden, you know that right?"

"He's my brother," he said slowly. "He's my responsibility. It's my job to protect him and make sure he's happy. I let him down. I guess that's what I do though."

Dean found that he couldn't stop. With Savannah, he felt like she should know everything. He wanted her to know everything about him, wanted to let her in like he never let anyone else in. He shut his mouth tightly before anything else could spill out by mistake, before the words hunting, demons, or ghosts could slip from his lips.

"Dean…"

"Don't. Go do your rounds. I'm really tired."

The next morning, Dean opened his eyes to see his little brother sitting next to the bed with his laptop resting on his legs. On the small end table next to the bed, was a bag of food and two cups of coffee. Dean moved to sit up but his chest protested. He let out a small groan which snapped Sam out of his research. He immediately reached behind the bed and tapped the nurse's call button several times.

"Just sit back, Dude," he told him as he tried to push his older brother gently back onto the bed.

A nurse that Dean hadn't seen before ran into the room, asking what was wrong. Sam explained about the pain and watched her walk out of the room. Dean heaved on the bed as he looked up at his brother, quickly pushing the pain in the back of his mind to do a quick glance over of his little brother. He was relieved when he didn't see any injuries. Soon enough the nurse was back with an intern who administered pain medication into the IV. Within a good minute, Dean relaxed, feeling only a dull ache in his chest.

"You've been doing well up until now, correct, Mister Cooper?" asked the intern.

"Pretty good. I was fine, just a little tinge of pain."

"Dean, don't lie," Sam commented which earned him a dirty look.

"I'm _fine_," Dean emphasized.

After several minutes of questioning, after a fair amount of groaning and insisting he's _fine_, the intern and nurse finally left. Dean snapped his head to his little brother who just stared at his brother with a smug look on his face.

"Bitch."

"If you're not going to take care of yourself, then I will," Sam paused before adding, "Jerk."

"Dude, I'm freakin' dandy."

"You were shot, Dean! You just had surgery! Don't tell me you're dandy or fine or good or whatever! You're not!"

"What'd you and Bobby find out? Get that little bitch who shot me?"

With a sigh, Sam explained everything Bobby told him about the grave. How there was sulfur, claw marks, and how the only way he could have come back was through a Crossroads Demon. He explained how they went to the warehouse and found no supernatural activity or any trail of where Max went.

"You get my car?"

"Yes, I got your car," Sam said testily. "You think I'd just leave the Impala there with a weapon cache that could supply a small army?"

"Wouldn't be the first stupid thing you've done," replied Dean with a smirk. "Need I remind you of the hotel incident?"

"Oh, you mean that stupid prank you pulled on me back when we were kids?"

"Dude, it's not my fault that you're scared of horror movies."

"Yeah, well, Dean, you know, maybe if you would have just let it go for once, then you wouldn't have wound up in the hospital."

"The prank I pulled did not permit you to hit me in the head with a baseball bat!"

"Dean! You paid people in the hotel - where we were on a job and was very much haunted - to make talk about how there were people there who had the shining and that there was a writer there who was acting suspicious! You even paid a kid to ride a big wheel in the hallway!"

"Sammy, you were sixteen. I would have hoped you didn't believe that people actually got the shining! You were just too easy!"

"You shouldn't have come at me with an ax!"

Dean paused, contemplating that last statement in his head. He laughed at the memory of chasing Sam outside of the hotel at one in the morning. Shrugging it off, he waved his hand to dismiss it.

"Dude, like I was really going to hurt you."

"I thought you went crazy! I mean, it was like that one time you made me think the Impala could talk and fiddled around with the wires to make me believe it came to life and was about to go on a homicidal rampage! Or the time you made me think Pennywise was real! Or that time I was taking a shower and you blared the Psycho music in the motel room and came into the bathroom with a knife!"

"Come on, you were so easy to scare that it wasn't even funny. I made you tough though." Dean smirked at his brother. "I really wish I could've found a way to make you believe Chucky was real."

"Don't even talk about him! I had to throw away the few stuffed animals I had because of that movie! I mean that last hotel gig we had, with the room full of dolls! I can't believe you made me go in there, stating that I loved dolls!"

"I was really hoping to find a redheaded male doll to show you… maybe wave it in your face for a bit, watch you scream like a girl."

Sam sighed, rubbing the palms of his hands roughly into his eyes. His hands fell in his lap as he looked over to the breakfast he'd brought his brother, the breakfast that was most likely cold. He threw the bag at Dean, a sausage croissant and some hash browns. Dean looked in the bag with a smile playing on his lips.

"It's probably cold, not that it really matters to you. I mean, you eat pizza that stayed out all night on the counter that probably was riddled in bacteria."

"That's the best kind of pizza, Sammy," Dean said before shoving half the croissant into his mouth.

Shaking his head, Sam grabbed his discarded laptop to finish what he started. Ash had e-mailed him everything he could find out on Max Miller even down to the grave desecration report filed nearly a year before. In the report, it stated that the dirt was disturbed on the grave, but nobody dug to find out if the casket or body were messed with.

"So where are you and Bobby going to start looking?" asked Dean.

"Bobby's looking into that as we speak. We're going out tonight."

"You could go now, if you want."

"Nah, I wanted to spend some time with you. It'll give you something to do besides stare at the wall."

"You mean, you want to stay here because if the FBI comes, you can carry my ass out of here?"

Sam looked up at his brother. That wasn't exactly his thought process but close to it. If the FBI did come, they needed an escape route. Sam hadn't planned out what they were going to do if that came to happen, but he felt better knowing someone was with Dean if worse came to worse.

"You know… Savannah?" Dean changed the subject.

"What about her?"

"She's just like she was in my dream," he replied with a weak smile. "She's exactly the same except for the name. I can't figure it out."

"What if the Djinn just doesn't induce you into a dream-like state? What if what you see is actually what could have been?"

"Why wouldn't the name be the same then?"

"Maybe it's distorted. Like in case you do fight the Djinn's reality, you won't be able to have the aspects that were different in real life?"

"That doesn't make sense."

"I don't know, Dean, I'm not an expert on Djinns."

Dean just nodded, popping in a cold hash brown into his mouth. Sam's brow furrowed as he watched his brother. He'd seen that look before, the longing in his brother's features. Sam knew it must have been hard for Dean to fight it, the perfect world where their mom was alive and they were both happy with the women of their dreams. How he must long to go back, long to hug and talk to their mom one last time.

"So you've talked to Savannah more?"

"She played poker with me last night," he spoke fondly. "I beat her the first two times and then she royally handed me my ass before she left to do rounds."

"You love her, don't you?"

"Dude, no. Come on, I barely know the chick."

Even though he knew the words should be true, he felt like he'd just betrayed Savannah in some way. He didn't know the Carmen in the dream; he didn't know Savannah in reality. When he was with her, he felt like he'd known her his whole life. She made him forget the bad, think how trivial his life had been, how pathetic he was.

"Whatever you say, Dean."

"Hey, when you find Max, make sure you shot him for me."

"There's something about this whole hunt that doesn't feel right. I mean… Max? I don't understand how he's back."

"You said it was a Crossroad Demon."

"Yeah, that's what Bobby thinks because a demon can't bring the dead back unless a deal is made, but you knew him as well as I did. The kid didn't have any friends. He was a loner."

"So? Even the most socially retarded have friends."

"Dean… what if this isn't about a Crossroad Demon? What if he's back because he's a psychic?"

"What? So psychics can't die now? Dude, lucky you, you're immortal."

"I don't know."

"Well, have Ash look up other dead psychics," Dean suggested. "What's his face? Andy's psycho brother. See if he's back before you jump the gun on this."

"The demon said he had plans for me. What if this is the plan? We die and we become a part of his army or something?"

"Sammy, calm down. Don't go making accusations like that, okay? We don't know what the hell is going on here."

"What if this is why Dad told you to kill me? I mean, maybe… maybe so I wouldn't turn evil?"

"Dude, no. Come on. If when psychics die they become evil, why would Dad tell me to kill you for that? So you could be a demon recruit? That doesn't make sense."

"None of this makes sense!" Sam shouted back.

He stood up, tucking his laptop under his arm before reaching for his coffee. He looked at Dean, apologizing, stating that he just needed some time to think. The elder Winchester nodded, waving meekly at his brother before he stormed out.

Sam threw the laptop into the back of the Impala before getting into the driver's seat. He leaned back into the familiar seat, arching his back slightly. Shoving the key into the ignition, he turned it and heard the engine rumble. He pulled out of the hospital parking garage and drove, not knowing exactly where he was going.

He didn't know how long he'd driven. He had to pull over once to refill before he was off again, driving aimlessly around Lawrence. It seemed as though he knew the town as well as his own backhand from driving all day. When the sun set, Sam decided to head back to the motel room and wait for Bobby so they could make their next move.

He was only a mile away when he saw a man walking in the middle of the road. Sam slammed on the breaks. It was then that he realized that it was Max walking down the road, staring at Sam through the glass. Reaching in the glove department for the nearest gun, he stepped out of the car and pointed the gun at the kid.

"Stop!" he shouted. "I don't want to shoot you, Max!"

The gun went flying out of Sam's hands at this point. Sam tried to get back in the car at that moment, grabbing the handle of the door to open it. The handle slipped from his grasp as the door slammed shut, the door locking. Before he could even think about getting in another door, all the doors locked at once. The keys were still in the ignition.

"Why are you doing this, Max? What happened to you?"

"This is our destiny, Sam," he replied. "Don't you see that?"

"What? You mean killing innocent people is our destiny?"

"No, killing hunters is our destiny. The bane of our existence. They're the real evil, Sam, not the demons. They want peace, and they can't get that until the hunters are extinct."

"Max, whatever they've been telling you… it's a lie. I'm a hunter, Max, and we're not the ones that are evil. The ones that kill people for no good reason." Sam placed his hands up in the air in surrender. "We help people. We save people."

"He says there's hope for you yet… he favors you, you know? You're part of one of his precious generations."

"Generations?"

"Don't fight it, Sam. Once he shows you everything, shows you the light, you'll never want to go back. You'll see your sole purpose is to serve him."

"Max, what are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. This is the only way. This is his will."

Before Sam would say anything else, before he could do anything, someone hit him from behind, causing him to fall forward on the ground, his hands skinning on the dirt and rock road. Pain flooded his head as he tried to look up, tried to fight. Another blow hit him and everything went black.

Author's Notes - I'm glad that more of you showed interest in the last chapter. I hope that only continues to grow. Here's another chapter, hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think. The fate of the story rests in your hands.


	5. Ways and Means

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Five: Ways and Means"**

A shrill ringing brought Dean out of his sleep. He looked for a clock but couldn't find one so he looked outside to see that the sun was just rising. Reaching over, he grabbed the hospital phone next to his bed and brought it up to his ear slightly irritated. Couldn't Sammy just have waited until he came to see him in a couple hours?

"What?" Dean snapped.

_"Is Sam with you?"_

Dean froze at Bobby's words. Why would Sam be with him? He was supposed to be with Bobby hunting Max or at least at the motel getting some rest. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he struggled to sit up. He contemplated the best way to get out of the hospital, wondering how much pain he would be in if he was no longer on morphine drip.

"No. What the hell happened, Bobby?"

_"Sam never showed last night. I went looking for him and found the Impala on some side dirt road."_

"Wait. Wait. No. No. Sammy left in the afternoon. He should have made it back to the motel."

_"Dean, there's blood too."_

Dean's mind was racing. He knew he had to get out of the hospital, needed to move to find Sam. What if Max got to him first? What if he was already dead? He pushed the morbid thoughts out of his mind. Sam was a psychic too. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

"No. No. Bobby, keep looking. He's there. Call him. Just call him!"

_"I've been calling him since last night, Dean. It just keeps rolling over to voicemail."_

"Call him again! Dammit, Bobby, you were supposed to look out for him!"

Dean slammed the phone down onto its base. He heaved as he grabbed the IV and yanked it out of his arm. He winced in pain, biting down hard on his lip. He then went to rip off the wires connecting him to the machines, determination flooding him. He couldn't just sit back when Sammy was missing. Sammy was his _job_; he had to protect him. He couldn't be bothered to sit in some hospital knowing that Sam could be in grave danger if not worse.

It was then that Savannah ran into the room, her eyes wide. Rushing over to him, she tried to push him down on the bed, but he fought her. He shoved her away from him, telling her to back off. She fell backwards on the floor, letting out a small _oomph!_ as she collided with the tile. Looking from Dean to the door, she looked about ready to call for help after recovering from her shock.

"Don't! I need to leave! Sammy needs me!" he shouted as tears burned his eyes. "He's missing. I need to find him. You can either help me get out of here or just leave."

"You- you'd be going AMA - against medical advice."

"I don't care. I-I don't care! Don't care! This is me not caring!"  
"Please, Dean, calm down. We can call the cops, get people out there looking for him. I told you my dad was an ex-cop so he can use his influence to get the best out there."

"No! They don't know what they're dealing with!"

"Please, calm down. The FBI is already here, and maybe they-"

"The FBI? What are they doing here?"

"Looking for some Winchester guy. Apparently we've been treating him."

Dean stood next to his bed, panting heavily as pain shot through his body. His face was chalk white, and his throat felt dry. He looked from Savannah to the door back to her. He stumbled across the room to a small duffle bag his brother had left, packed with fresh clothes and his cell phone.

"You can choose to believe me or not, but I have to get out of here right now without anyone noticing," he looked straight in her eyes as he spoke. "They've got the wrong guy."

"Oh my god… oh my god! You-you're Dean Winchester! The murdering bank robber! Oh my god, I knew you looked familiar!"

"Please, Savvy, I'm asking you to _trust_ me. I didn't do what they say I did. You gotta help me… please, Sammy's life is in danger. He could die. I'll explain everything to you, I swear, I will."

He walked slowly towards her, limping slightly, with the duffle slung over one shoulder. Kneeling down beside her, he reached out and touched her shoulder. She didn't move her body, or flinch away, but her head turned from his face to the hand on her arm. She was breathing heavily.

"You feel it, don't you? The connection between us?" he whispered. "I didn't kill anyone. Sammy's never killed anyone. It's mistaken identity. I swear to you."

"Why- why don't you tell them then?"

"I've tried, trust me, I have."

She looked up at his face trying to see if he was lying to her, trying to deceive her in any way. He could tell she was battling with herself, trying to decide if she should trust him or not. Sighing, she nodded her head slowly as though she regretted it more than anything else.

"I could lose my job for this… hell, I could be an accessory to aiding a fugitive."

"You'll help then?" he asked as a smile broke out of his face.

"I'm going to regret this when I end up in a dumpster somewhere."

Standing up shakily, he held out a hand for Savannah. She didn't bother taking it, knowing that he could barely hold his own weight let along hers. Standing up, she rubbed her hands on her scrubs nervously as she gnawed on her bottom lip. Dean gave her a reassuring smile before making his way out the door.

Savannah followed him, looking around frantically. Footsteps and voices could be heard around the corner. Dean froze, trying to double back the other way. Savannah opened a door, dragging him in behind her. She snapped the door shut, locking it as Dean fumbled to find the light switch.

They were in a storage closet. Going over to the nearest shelf, Savannah started rummaging through a collection of small vials. Dean took the opportunity to change out of the hospital gown. A familiar voice cursed loudly from a little down the hallway, demanding nurses and doctors where the patient was. A smirk crossed Dean's face which earned him a dirty look from the nurse. The corners of his mouth immediately fell, not wanting her to find him insensitive and betray him to Henriksen.

"There's an air duct that leads down to the morgue," she whispered as she stuffed several vials and needles into the duffle.

"You know the route?"

"No, but I know that the duct leads all over the hospital. There's bound to be a way down to the morgue. My car's parked out back…"

She shoved a needle into one of the vials, drawing a clear liquid into it. Dean rolled up his shirt and stuck out his arm. Jabbing the needle into his arm, she released the liquid in his system. The tightness in his chest, the dull ache in his torso slowly started to relieve itself. She threw the evidence into the duffle and pointed towards the duct above them.

"Ladies first," Dean commented with a smirk.

He reached up, tugging the cover off and discarded it on the floor. Linking his fingers together, he allowed Savannah to place her foot to help hoist herself up. Dean grunted in pain as she did so, relieved when she was in. He watched her legs shimmy before they disappeared. He could hear the FBI agents checking the rooms. Pulling over a small rolling table, Dean tested his weight on it before climbing onto it and then into the duct behind Savannah.

Across town, Sam stirred. He was lying on his side, the cold cement freezing his cheek. He groaned, tugging the binds that held his hands together behind his back. Head pounding, Sam tried to ignore it enough to take a good look around the room. Everything was blurry, but he could make out the outline of a man sitting Indian style not far away from him.

Blinking several times, his vision became clearer and he noted that it was Max sitting there with his eyes closed as though he was in deep meditation. A door opened from behind Sam, a pair of footsteps walking into the room. He stayed perfectly still, waiting to see who entered the room.

"Howdy, Sammy," a familiar voice greeted.

A hand reached out and grabbed his arm, rolling him onto his back. Sam winced in pain, his back arching up so he wouldn't crush his hands underneath. A pair of yellow eyes met his, and Sam flared. Breathing heavily, his jaw clenching, he narrowed his eyes at the demon in front of him.

"Hope Max wasn't too rough."

Sam stayed quiet staring up at the demon in front of him. He was trying to paste the pieces together but found that the pounding wasn't going to allow him to do so. Tearing his eyes away from the demon, he looked over at Max who was still idly mediating in peace, unaffected by the entrance.

"It'll all make sense," the demon continued. "I'll show you the real life of hunters - what your daddy did, what your brother did."

"What?" Sam found his voice, disgusted to find it scratchy and weak. "Hunt sons of bitches like yourself? Murders like you?"

"Sure, they do that. Daddy ever told you how he's killed hunters? Dean ever tell you how he's killed _innocent humans_?" A smirk crossed the demon's face. "I'll give you the dirty details, and you'll want to join me, Sammy. Since I'm in a good mood, I'll even show you your mom, how she fits into all of this."

"You mean you'll tell me why you murdered her?"

"Didn't want to murder her… wrong place, wrong time. I liked her. I liked her a lot. She was one of my favorites."

"Why should I take anything you say as the truth?"

"Because I'm not going to tell you anything. I'm gonna show you."

"Then get it over with," Sam spat.

"Not yet. I can't until… well, you'll find out soon enough."

The demon stood up as well as Max. They both made their way out of the room silently. Rolling over onto his stomach, Sam pulled and tugged at the binds around his hands. He was determined to get them off, motivated to be long gone before either of them came back. He needed to get to Bobby and Dean, tell them what was going on and where the demons were. They had to take them out, but Sam knew he couldn't do it alone.

After a good twenty minutes of wandering through the duct, getting turned around more times than either of them could count, Dean and Savannah finally made it into the morgue. Somewhere along the line, Dean had started to lead. He pushed the covering off and went head first out of the opening, crashing onto a table. Grunting in pain, he rolled off the table to make room for Savannah. She soon followed, shrieking slightly as her body smacked into the metal table.

Dean was on the floor, unable to move because of the pain shooting through his chest. Savannah scrambled in the duffle bag for another needle and vial of morphine. She prepared it quickly and shoved the needle into his arm but only a little of the pain relieved itself. Struggling to stand, Savannah helped Dean up. She gripped his arm tightly and led him out of the morgue through the back door.

Rummaging through her pocket, she pulled out her keys. As quickly as they could, they made their way to a '77 Mustang Cobra II. She unlocked the passenger door for Dean before jogging over to the driver's side. Sliding in quickly, the key was in the ignition and turned before she even shut her door. She backed out quickly before hauling ass out of the hospital packing lot.

"You start talking or I'm shooting you so full of morphine that you'll OD and die."

Dean thought that she was trying to sound intimidating, but she sounded more scared than anything. Why she took the leap of faith and helped him, he didn't know. He was just grateful that she did. Maybe it was his eyes. He was always told he had very sincere eyes.

"You're not going to believe me," he wheezed slightly at the tightness in his chest.

"Well, if you don't start talking-"

"Okay. Okay. Just hear me out, all right? I know what I'm going to say is going to make you think I'm certifiable." He reached over for the duffle bag. "Just let me call Sammy first. I need to try to get in touch with him."

She allowed him to grab his phone, her eyes leaving the road every few seconds to make sure he wasn't trying to pull something. Pressing speed dial one, he put the phone to his ear. It rang only two times before going straight to voicemail, his little brother's calm voice filling his ear.

"Dammit, Sammy."

"I'm sorry about your brother, I am, but have you thought that maybe he got caught by the police?"

"No. No. Bobby found the car abandoned on this dirt road. He said there was blood there. It had to be Sammy's. He's hurt or something."

"I really am sorry about Sam, but I need you to start telling me the truth and fast before I have an anxiety attack or something," she was breathing heavily, "because this is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

Dean sighed, picturing them together at dinner in what seemed like a distant dream where he was surrounded by family but the only person he could really see was her. He could feel her breath dancing on his lips before they brushed gently against his. He could feel her body close to his, the warmth of her small frame. He never felt like this before with anyone, not even Cassie. Savannah understood him better than anyone else, better than Sammy ever could or his dad ever did. She was his only hope in finding Sam, the only chance he had to save his kid brother. He had to trust her, take that leap of faith like she did with him.

"My name's Dean Winchester. I don't work at a salvage yard. Bobby's not my uncle - he was a close friend of my dad's. I'm wanted by the FBI for crimes that I didn't commit per se. My home is my car. I've only known shitty motel rooms and that car since I was four years old. I'm responsible for Sam; it's my job ever since I carried him out of our burning house. I basically raised Sammy because my dad was always gone fighting the good fight, never getting recognition for any of the good he did. I'm now following in his footsteps because this life is all I've ever known. I'm scared shitless for my brother knowing that one time I'm not going to be able to protect him, and I'll fail him and my dad."

"Crimes you didn't commit per se? What the hell does that mean?"

"I didn't murder anyone, and I didn't rob that bank. I was trying to save the girls that were being murdered and was trying to stop anyone dying in that bank. I was doing my job."

"What is your job exactly?"

He paused, taking a deep breath. It was now or never. He knew by telling her she'd think he was crazy and immediately turn him in to the authorities or she would believe him. He thought the former of the two was the most likely outcome, but he had to try for Sammy's sake.

"I'm a hunter."

"A hunter?"

"I hunt the supernatural. Sammy and me… we work together. Our dad did before us. Hunting things. Saving people. It's the Winchester family business. Yes, I've committed credit card fraud, mail fraud, impersonated federal agents, committed grave desecration, I've stolen, I've lied, I've cheated, but I never once murdered anything human. So yes, I suppose in a way, the FBI has a right to want me behind bars for all that crap, but I'm not a murderer."

Savannah didn't say anything. Dean watched her grip the steering wheel tightly, her eyes glued to the road in front of her. Running a hand over his weary face, he leaned back into the leather seats and decided to allow her to make the first move. She took the news a lot better than Cassie ever did - who had immediately took the truth as a personal insult to her intelligence and started raving.

"Okay," Savannah said slowly not daring to look at him, "you're being serious, aren't you?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

"Um… I've always tried to keep an open mind because I mean, anything is possible, right? Having an open mind and believing it are two utterly different things. You- you're coming out and saying, 'I'm a ghost buster!' and 'Monsters are real!' and that's a little freaky. It's a little too much to disgust. I'm a- I'm a nurse. I'm in the hard medical science career."

"I didn't expect you to believe me. Just, please, I need to help my brother. Help me help him."

"Okay, you are either insane or very imaginative or being completely honest. My mind, right now, doesn't really want to think about what the truth really is." She swallowed hard, glancing at him briefly. "I don't care, honestly, if you think you're Doctor Venkman or- or Spengler, okay? For some insane reason though, I actually believe you're not a murderer. So, I'm going to drop you off somewhere and go back to the hospital and try to forget about you."

"Really? I think you'd be a great Sigourney Weaver," he said weakly, trying to break the tension. "Just drop me off at my motel."

Dean told her the name, and she knew where to go. They lapsed into silence the rest of the way, neither knowing what to say. Dean forced the pain back and concentrated on how to find Sam. He was hoping that Bobby would have a lead by now, something concrete that they could follow up on.

Savannah pulled into the parking lot of the motel and cut the engine. The Impala was parked outside their room which made Dean sigh in relief. He didn't have to wait for Bobby - whose truck was nowhere to be seen. Turning towards Savannah, he gave her a weak smile.

"Thanks, I mean it. I only ever told the truth to one other girl I cared about, and she thought I was just trying to break up with her." He cleared his throat. "Maybe after I find Sam and drag his ass back home… we could get together."

Dean didn't wait for a reply. He opened the door and hauled himself out of the car as fast as he could. The door snapped shut loudly as Dean limped towards the Impala. Opening the trunk, he went about unlocking the weapons cache as Savannah appeared next to him. She gasped slightly at the sight of all the weapons, charms, holy water bottles.

"I, uh, you forgot the morphine. You're going to need it."

He turned to her, his eyebrows raised. He expected her to hightail out of the place, but she hadn't. Thanking her again, he took the duffle from her and sat it down by his feet. He searched through the weapons until he found the handgun he was looking for - the one loaded with iron bullets.

Wheels screeched as a van turned into the motel parking lot. The side door opened. Max Miller and a guy Dean didn't recognize jumped out of the car and started advancing towards them. He raised the gun, ready to fire. His finger pushed back just before the gun was thrown out of his hands telekinetically. The bullet stopped only inches away from Max's chest before turning around and flying towards Dean. Grabbing Savannah's arm, he pulled her down with him. The bullet lodged itself into the hood of the Impala.

"Where's Sam?" Dean shouted as Savannah huddled close to him. "What the fuck did you do to my brother?"

Mind racing, Dean quickly went through their options which were pretty limited. He wouldn't have enough time to grab another gun and fire before Max knocked it out of his hands. He couldn't outrun the kids because he was already out of breath and in too much pain. There was only one plan that Dean was about 60 sure would work - tackle one of the kids when they got close enough and hope that Savannah could kick some ass.

Max was the first to approach, the other kid not far behind him. Dean adjusted his feet on the ground, balancing most of his weight on one foot so that the other could easily slide out from underneath in a swift kick. Savannah gripped his arm, her nails digging into his forearm. He felt her adjust herself next to him, as though she was ready to drag him into a run at any minute.

When Max was close enough, Dean leaned back into the Impala and kicked the kid's shin as hard as he could. He stumbled back onto the pavement. The other kid rushed forward faster than Dean anticipated. Pulling him up by the collar with one hand, the kid's other hand flew out and punched him square in the jaw. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Savannah stand up and latched herself on the kid, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist and her nails clawing at his eyes.

The kid's grip loosened, allowing Dean to punch him in the face. The kid fought back, shaking Savannah off him before attempting to punch Dean again. This time, he blocked the punch and swung his leg to knock the kid off his feet and succeeded. Panting heavily, Dean kicked the kid in the stomach.

"Dean! Watch out!" Savannah yelled just as something hit him across the back, sending white-hot pain through his chest.

Dean fell forward, his vision blurring due to the pain. Max hovered over him with a huge stick in his hand. Weakly, Dean tried to kick the kid but was unsuccessful. Max stepped around him before stepping on Dean's chest wound. He bit his bottom lip, trying to suffocate the scream itching up his throat. Strangled cries escaped his lips before everything around him became so fuzzy he couldn't make out anything. After what seemed like several minutes of agonizing pain, Dean passed out.

Author's Notes - Wow, I'm updating faster than I normally would. I'm going to ask everyone who reads to review because if you took the time to read, then you should take the time to review. If you don't review, then why are you even bothering reading? I'd really appreciate constructive criticism, because I do want to be an author after I graduate. So please help me by reviewing. Thanks to those who have been reviewing and who will.


	6. Life is Short

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Six: - Life is Short"**

The first thing that Dean realized was the sharp pain surging through his chest. The next thing was that he had no clue where he was. The attack in the parking lot was a distant memory, the pieces jumbled up in his mind. He remembered Max kicking his ass and Savannah yelling his name. Other than that, everything was a blur to him. His lips parted, taking in a shaky breath. Someone's hand then found its way onto his face, brushing his cheek lightly.

"Dean?" a female voice called in a frightened tone. "Please, Dean, wake up."

He worked his way through the fog, trying to forget about the pain. Eyes fluttering open, he could make out an outline of a woman with black hair and wide eyes. Blinking several times, the woman became clearer. Savannah. She was white in the face, her hands shaking as she brushed his hair. Tearing his eyes away from her, he looked around the room which was small and empty except for the flickering naked light bulb above them.

"Where?" His voice was scratchy and small.

"I don't know," she responded as a tiny smile of relief crossed her face. "There were so many men. Once you'd passed out, a blue truck came. I think it was your uncle - your dad's friend… whatever. There was shooting and… someone grabbed me and the man who was beating you up grabbed you. They shoved up in this- this van and drove off. The truck didn't follow. I think- I think your friend was shot, but I'm not sure. Everything happened so fast. They blindfolded me and tied my hands behind my back. The next thing I know, we're being dragged out of the van and put in here. You've been out several hours."

Letting the information sink in, Dean tried to sit up. Before he even had a chance to fight through the pain, Savannah placed both hands firmly on his shoulders and pushed him back down as her head shook. He looked down at the hands, noting his shirt was missing. The surgery incision on his chest was red and puffy with what looked like purple sutures holding the skin together.

"You pulled your stitches out, probably in the parking lot. There was a lot of blood in the van. Once we got here, they threw me a needle and thread so I could…"

"Did you… see Sammy?"

"No. I'm sorry, Dean. They didn't take the blindfold off until they threw us in here. No one's come in or out the whole time."

Closing his eyes, his mind wandered to Sammy and how he was fairing in all of this. He had to be in the same building, and Dean was determined to find him. Taking in a deep, shallow breath, he contemplated how to go about it. There had to be a way out of the room. The door would most likely be locked but nothing a few good kicks and well-placed shoulder couldn't break.

"We need to find him."

"You need to lie down and rest."

"I can't rest knowing Sammy's in here somewhere. He could be hurt or dyin' or something."

"We're locked in. I've tried to get out."

"Kick the damn door down!" he shouted.

Savannah ran a hand down her weary face while the other gently squeezed Dean's shoulder. He stared up at her, breathing heavily. His eyes wandered to the door on the right. It was a wood door, nothing that couldn't be broken down. She would have to break it, because he didn't know if he had enough strength left in him to do it.

"I'm glad I trusted you," she said softly. "I'm glad that I got you here to help Sam, but you need to rest first."

"I've _been_ resting."

"You're no good to your brother if you're dead," she said harshly.

"Kick the door down. It's wood, won't be that hard."

When she didn't move, Dean let out a groan. He attempted to sit up again, but Savannah pushed him back down. Without the strength to fight her, he let her keep him on the floor. Swallowing hard, his mind roamed to Sammy again. Images of Max hurting him filled Dean's mind, and he couldn't take that. He was going to kill the kid as soon as he was able to lay his hands on him. He couldn't wait to shot the kid dead for good this time. He couldn't wait to salt and burn the bones and be done with him forever. The kid was really starting to get on his nerves.

"What is the proper mechanics of breaking down a door?" she asked softly.

"You gotta put your weight into it. If you can't, then put momentum behind it."

"Yeah, Winchester, because there's a lot of room to run in here," her voice pathetically attempted to be light and playful.

"I'll break it down then."

"In your condition? I'd be surprised if you could even walk over to the door."

With a faint smirk dancing on her face, she got up and squared her shoulders. Taking in a deep breath, she ran at the door as fast as she could. Within a foot of the door, she twisted her body to allow her shoulder to collide with the wood. She screamed as her body connected, falling backwards onto the floor. Panting, she looked over at Dean to see him struggling to sit up.

"You didn't put your weight into it, did you?"

"Shut up! Yes, I did. Momentum and weight."

"Obviously you didn't."

"What now?"

Sam didn't know how long he laid on the floor trying to break through the binds around his wrist. He was beginning to think that it wasn't just ordinary rope holding his hands together. Sitting up, Sam looked around the room for what seemed like the millionth time. There was nothing sharp enough to cut the rope in the whole damn room. There was only one way out, the door at the other end of the room. Sam, however, wasn't naïve enough to think that there wasn't a guard or two outside the door. He had to find another way out.

Before Sam got the chance to explore the room more, the door on the far end of the room opened and the demon came in with Max and two others in tow. The psychics behind him looked a little beat up as though they'd gotten into a fight. That's when Sam's stomach churned. It couldn't have been Dean. He was still in the hospital. There was no way that he got out. Who else would have picked a fight with them? Their next victim? Bobby?

"Almost time, Sammy, to see the world in a new light," the demon said with a smirk plastered across his face, his yellow eyes shining in excitement. "It's going to hurt - quite a bit actually - but no pain no gain, am I right?"

"What are you going to do?" he questioned as he watched the two men he didn't recognize step towards him.

"I'm going to show you the true nature of hunters, their cruel, busybody selves - their selfish nature in this crazy chess game of life. I'm going to help you move mountains, Sammy, open your eyes to a whole new world." He paused for several seconds. "But first, Maxie here is going to shoot you."

Sam's eyes flew over to Max, disbelief clouding his features. His gaze flickered down to the gun he held tightly in his right hand. Before he knew it, the two men grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him upward. Sam stumbled forward slightly, trying to break free from their grasp. Their grip, however, was too strong as he was hauled out of the small room.

Savannah sighed, her shoulder aching from running into the door several times. Dean was standing against the nearest wall, instructing her again on what to do. She sighed in frustration, sure that she had been doing exactly what he told her from the beginning. Taking in a deep breath, she ran the short distance to the door when it opened. As she crashed into a body, strong arms grabbed her, pushing her up against the nearest wall.

Dean stumbled forward, ready to beat the crap out of the kid in his early twenties when another one entered the room. The new kid pushed him hard against the wall he was just leaning on. Pain exploded into his chest as his arms were forced over his head. He squirmed, struggling against the pain to fruitlessly fight back. His hands were in binds quickly as he was lead out of the small room. Savannah wasn't far in front of him, her hands tied as well. She turned her head back to look at him, fear evident in her eyes. They were led down a narrow corridor into a large, open room.

Immediately, Dean noted the two hooks hanging from the ceiling. He tried to root his feet into the ground but was unsuccessful. He watched as they looped Savannah's bind over one of the hooks. Her feet barely touched the floor. Her eyes were wide with panic as she looked to Dean for reassurance, but he didn't have the strength to try to reassure her. Instead, he tried to think of how they could get out of this mess. Within seconds, his binds were looped over the second hook.

"Dean," she panted.

He tugged at the rope, trying to get the hook to cut through it. His attempts faltered when a door opened to reveal the demon with several kids flaked behind him. In the middle, Sammy appeared struggling with the ones that held him. A ghost of a smile appeared on Dean's face when he saw his brother alive and relatively healthy.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted.

The pain, the panic, everything that Dean was feeling was gone. He concentrated on his little brother in front of him. His clothes were dirty and twisted on his body. There was a large gash across his left temple, blood caked on his pale face and in his hair. His eyes snapped to Dean, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Dean?"

Sam fought back harder against the kids dragging him into the room. For some reason, they were stronger than the normal person was. It was irritating as he tried to escape. Sam knew he needed to help Dean. He could see that the incision on his chest was newly sewed. A thin sheet of sweat covered his nearly chalk-white face. He was struggling to stand up, his legs shaking slightly under his weight. Sam knew that his brother needed a doctor and fast.

His eyes shot around the room for something to help them out. That's when he noticed the nurse from the hospital was there as well. A trail of tears was streaked down her face. Her scrubs were ripped and dirty, her hair half out of the ponytail. She was panting heavily, her eyes shooting from Dean to Sam and then back again.

"Max," the demon called from somewhere behind him.

Max stepped around Sam, the gun still tightly in his right hand. Sam could feel his heart pick up pace as he struggled violently against the men holding him. He could faintly hear Dean weakly yelling - his words a dull hum. The gun rose slowly and pointed directly at Sam. He felt a breath hitch in his throat as Max's finger jolted back. The gunshot rang throughout the small room, echoing loudly.

"Sam! Sammy!"

Dean watched in horror as the bullet struck his younger brother in the forehead. The kids that had been holding him let go of his arms. His body fell gracefully backwards, colliding with the cement floor with an ominous _thump_. Dean winced at the noise, not even aware of the hot tears running down his face. He tugged his arms downward, determined to help Sammy.

The demon and the psychics turned and left the room, leaving Sam bleeding out in the middle of the room. Dean managed to disengage the rope from the hook. His body collapsed on the floor, and Dean half crawled half walked to his younger brother. Once at his side, he grabbed Sam's face in-between his hands. Blood was everywhere and even though he knew his brother was gone, his hand still tried to stop the wound from bleeding. He could hear Savannah crying behind him. He didn't even know he was crying until a thick tear dropped onto Sam's face.

Sam woke up, jerking as a drop of water hit him right below the left eye. He couldn't tell if Dean or anyone else was with him. Struggling to sit up, he looked around into the darkness, not being able to make out anything. His head was throbbing. Reaching up a hand, Sam felt a sticky substance on his forehead. He pulled back, squinting in the dark to try to make out what it was but failed. His heart was pounding as he tried to figure out where he was. He could feel the blood pulsating in his ears; his head feeling like it was going to explode at any moment.

A light flickered on down a narrow hallway causing his headache to intensify. He could make out what the place looked like a little bit. It was bare, and he couldn't see any furniture or tell where the light was coming from exactly. The walls were red and looked lumpy. In certain areas, it looked as though the walls were actually swirling. Blinking his eyes, Sam stared down the corridor to see who was coming. He half-heartedly hoped it was Dean but wasn't foolish enough to actually believe it. A figure appeared down the hallway, and Sam scooted back farther into the darkness.

He stopped moving, catching a glance at the familiar face walking towards him. A worn face and sad eyes greeted him. The man swaggered, a bout of confidence about him. Sam's chest tightened, his throat seemed to close shut. He didn't think that he'd ever see the man again. He could feel his eyes prickle with tears, but he refused to let them fall. Stubbornly, he wiped a hand across his face.

"Sammy," the voice said softly but with the same gruffness underlining it just like Sam remembered.

"Dad?" he managed to reply.

Sam stared in disbelief as the man came closer to him. A soft smile appeared on his face, a sad smile that Sam had grown up seeing. He reached out to Sam, offering a hand to help him up. Sam reached out and grasped the man's hand, unwilling to believe that his father was standing in front of him. Surely if he was with his dad that only meant…

"How do I know it's you and not some trick?" he managed to ask.

"You died, Sammy," he responded forlornly.

John reached out, lightly brushing the side of Sam's face with his hand. Tears burned in the older man's eyes, a dejected smile breaking out wider onto his gray face. Sam stood still, too shocked to move or protest. He remembered Max, Dean and the nurse tied up, the gun going on, Dean screaming, the pain that exploded within him when the bullet shot into him.

"No," Sam whispered to himself.

"The demon's going to take you - show you things that I did… that Dean did. Things we're not proud of. It's going to ask you to join it. You say yes, Son, you hear me? I don't want you rotting down here with me. Just join it. Dean knows what to do. He'll fix it all."

"Dad…?"

"Sammy, listen to me. This is important," he pleaded.

"What's going on? What's going to happen to me?"

"You died, Sammy, and the demon's going to give you another chance at life. It's part of the deal."

"No," he said even though he knew it was all true.

John cupped his son's face in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. Sam wanted nothing more than to cling to his father, beg him to take him back to Dean. He wanted his father to make it better, to correct. His father was always good at fixing things, protecting him and Dean. More than anything, he wanted John to fix this, to make it all better. He was breathing heavily as footsteps could be heard coming towards them. John forced Sam to look at him, a silent plead to comply burning fiercely in his eyes. Sam started to shake his head.

"Dean knows what to do," he said again sternly. "When _it_ asks you to join, you say yes, Sammy. Do you hear me? Say yes. Trust me. Trust _Dean_."

John turned away from Sam, looking over his son's shoulder at something. Sam didn't have the heart to turn around to see what his father was looking out as a part of him knew that the demon. The demon who was to show him things that would supposedly make him willingly join a demon army - make him turn evil and kill all the hunters out in the world, men and women who fought what he would become. He stared at his father, wishing that his father would just look at him once more. He wished his father would reassure him once last time.

"Time to go, Sammy, we've got a great adventure ahead of us," the demon's snarky voice was ringing in his ears.

"Dad…"

"Go, Sammy," was all his father said as he stepped backwards, not daring to look at his son.

Author's Notes - So this chapter is a lot shorter than previous ones, but I had to stop since the next chapter is pretty lengthy. I'll either cut it down or put it in two parts. I haven't decided. Please, do review and give me your thoughts. There might be a few grammatical errors since I just did a quick glance over.


	7. Journey to the Past

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Seven: Journey to the Past "**

Sam watched as John backed away with regret filling his eyes. Sam didn't turn around when he felt the cool hand encase around his arm. A tugging sensation filled him and before he could tell what was going on, he was standing in a yellow nursery. The walls were covered with sunflowers and looked too painfully cheerful.

The demon took a step from behind Sam to stand next to him. A grin twitched on his face as he watched the tiny baby fussing in the crib. Taking a step forward, Sam peered down at the baby girl with tuffs of blonde hair.

"This is just the beginning," the demon started, "of this thrilling opportunity to understand who you are and what you are to become - how to be all you can be."

"Why should I believe anything you show me? I mean, you did kill me after all," Sam said dully.

He turned to look at the demon smirking. Sam felt defeated and wanted nothing more than to see Dean one last time to make sure he didn't do anything stupid and to make sure he gets to a hospital. He could see Dean barely holding on, his face so white that it looked like at any moment he would pass out. Then the image of his father burned in his eyes, the helpless look of defeat gracing his rugged features.

"It was necessity. I can't show you all that I have to show you alive - red tape, it'll make you crazy. You have a choice, Sammy. You could stay dead and keep good ole Dad company in hell… or you can see the light at the end of the tunnel and join me."

"Henry?" a tired female voice called. "Henry, is Mary being fussy again?"

Sam didn't answer. He turned to the doorway to see a tired woman stumbling into the bedroom. Her blonde locks were tousled around rosy face. She had on a nightgown, one that was considered fashionable in the 50's. Her eyes rested on a figure standing next to the crib, one that Sam hadn't seen earlier. The figure raised his finger to his mouth to silence the woman.

"Henry, why are you wearing a coat?" the woman questioned farther as she stepped into the room. "Henry?"

A gasp escaped the woman's lips as she was thrown against the wall with a loud _thump_. She struggled against the invisible binds that kept her pinned. Realizing it was fruitless, she closed her eyes as she slowly slid up the wall. She tried to remain calm, her chest heaving.

"You won't get away with this," the woman commented as her body slid up on the ceiling.

Sam turned to see the demon standing there, looking younger in the body he was possessing. There was no way the victim he was possessing could be more than seventeen or eighteen years old. Sam turned to see the demon he came with looking calm, his gaze fixated on his younger self.

"Watch me."

"Lily?" a male voice called. "Lily, what's going on?"

The woman on the ceiling reacted immediately, fear crossing her face. She began to struggle again as an invisible knife ran along her stomach. Blood started to drip onto the floor as the curtains burst into flames. The younger demon was gone just before a man with sandy hair walked into the nursery. His eyes widened at the fire, rushing to grab the baby out of the crib.

"Mommy? Daddy?" a childish voice called.

The man cradled the baby in his arms, hushing her silently as he started to make his way out of the room. That's when he saw the woman on the ceiling. Sam rushed forward, prepared to catch the baby that was certain to be dropped, but saw his hand glide right through the man's body.

"Just memories, the past," the demon explained slightly amused. "This isn't _Back to the Future_."

The man screamed, "Lily!" once more before a boy no more than seven or eight appeared in the doorway - his green eyes filled with terror and faced smeared with freckles. The boy eerily reminded Sam of Dean. He watched the baby start to slip from the man's arms. The kid rushed forward, supporting the baby in his arms. The kid started to look up at the ceiling, wandering what the man was looking at. The man grabbed the boy's face, keeping him from looking up.

"Ben, take your sister outside as fast as you can. Go to Uncle Douglas and tell him to call 911! Go, Ben, now!"

Ben rushed from the room, luckily not looking upwards. Sam broke out into a run, following the boy. He raced through the second story, not really paying attention to where he was going. The demon wasn't far behind him as he took the stairs two at a time. Before long, Sam stepped outside to see that the neighbors of the small family were already outside, pointing at the burning house. The boy rushed up to a man who looked like Dean with the same short, brown hair and green eyes.

"Uncle Douglas!" Ben cried as the Dean look-alike picked the kids up in his arms.

"Where's your mom and dad?" the man asked frantically.

"Inside," Ben responded. "Daddy didn't- he didn't…"

There was a loud _boom_, causing Sam to duck instinctively. He whipped around just to time to watch the second story collapse within itself. There was no way anyone left inside the house survived. Sam turned back to the kids and their uncle, his eyes wide with understanding. His throat clenched as he stared at the baby girl.

"It's 'kay, Mary," the boy said through tears. "Uncle Douglas is here."

"You did this?" Sam shouted enraged. "You orphaned those kids? My- my mother?"

"I really like you, Sammy. I really liked Mary and Lily. It's just… wrong place, wrong time."

"You show me that my grandmother and mother were like me - psychics. You're basically telling me that when they had the chance to rot in hell or join you, they chose hell, so why would I want to join you if they didn't?"

"They didn't have the choice. I killed them so the offer wasn't valid. Red tape, I'm telling you, Sam, it'll get you every time."

Before Sam could say anything else, the world around him became fuzzy. When his vision became clear again, he was standing in a musty bar with the demon next to him. In the table in front of him sat three people: an older man, a younger man, and a younger girl. The two men looked like Dean - one as he looked now and the other as he would look in a good thirty years. The young girl was unmistakably his mother.

"We head out tomorrow night," the oldest one stated as he downed his liquor. "Ben, you're on gun cleaning duty tonight. Mary… why don't you practice your shot?"

"No," she said.

"Excuse me?" Ben questioned as the uncle just shook his head.

"I said, 'no'. I'm sick of this life. All I've ever known is crappy motel rooms and target practice. I haven't stayed in a town long enough to make any friends or even have a boyfriend. You think Mom and Dad would have wanted us to have this life? Hunting things that go bump in the night? Seriously, Benny, how can you be happy?"

Sam hovered beside his mother, his heart pounding hard against his chest. He turned back to look at the demon who made no acknowledgement of the conversation. The demon was too busy looking around the room as though looking for someone. Sam turned back to the family he never knew, the family that had been hunters just like him and Dean. The idea of his mother being a hunter made him sick.

"Uncle Doug took us in, Mary. He gave us a family. He's protected us and taught us how to protect ourselves. You're just being selfish."

"You want to leave, Mary?" the uncle slurred. "You leave. You leave your family behind for some cheap thrills. Go ahead. It'll show how much you appreciate what we do. I've done all I could for you, Mary, and you're just an ungrateful bitch who killed my baby sister."

Sam watched as his mother stood up from the booth and made her way towards the bar, her jaw tight and eyes straight ahead. She rested her elbows on the bar, her body leaning forward. She ordered a beer as she took a seat. Sam turned away from his mother to look at her family who were talking in low voices to one another. By the time he looked back, a young man appeared next to her - his father clad in a Marine uniform.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing in this dingy bar all by herself?"

John Winchester's smile was wide as he took the vacant seat next to Mary. He ordered a drink with a motion of the hand, his eyes never leaving Mary. She tried to ignore him, annoyance evident in her face.

"I'm a Corporal. Echo 2/1. Just got back from 'Nam."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" she snapped as she glanced at him.

"Would it impress you more if I showed you the nice bullet wound in my leg? Or the one in my shoulder? I got a bronze star and a purple heart at once. Smart, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I was a rifleman. Ran in to save this guy's life. His name was Mark… we trained together. He was down. I grabbed him and was almost out of harms way when I get hit in the thigh. Me and my buddy went crashing to the ground. I tried to save my buddy's life, got on top of him to shield him from the bullets coming at us. Got hit in the shoulder when I was moving on top of him. Then out of nowhere, this guy named Deacon comes out. He shoots the mothers down - there were three of those bastards. I don't know how he did it. Saved our lives though. I owe him big time. Told him I'd keep in touch because you can't just blow off a guy who saved your life, you know? No better friend, no worse enemy."

"That was… admirable."

"I'm John, by the way."

"Mary."

"So… you from around here, because I've lived here my whole life and I've never seen you."

"No," she replied as he laughed.

"A woman of few words, I like that."

"A man of too many words, I can't decide if I like that or not."

"Hey, I'm just putting myself out there. I'm so very vulnerable right now, having just got back from war. I don't need you to put me down any more than I already feel."

Sam stared at the interaction between his mother and father. He couldn't quite believe it. He knew his parents met in a bar shortly after John got back from Vietnam, but he never knew how hard he tried to talk to her. He never knew how reserved his mother was, so reluctant to talk to him. This wasn't at all how he pictured their first meeting. Hell, it was hard for Sam to see John smiling and light instead of the serious, gloomy man he grew up with. To see his father so bubbly and talkative was beyond weird. His father usually barked orders, never showed emotion, never felt inclined to tell his sons a story so willingly.

"So if you're not from the wonderful state of Indiana, where are you from?"

"I move around a lot."

"When you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Going where?"

"None of your business."

"I'm leaving tomorrow myself. Gonna drive myself to Lawrence, Kansas. A 'Nam buddy of mine is meeting me there. We're opening up our own business - auto body shop."

"You're good with cars then?"

"Yeah, got a real beauty. I come back from 'Nam, and my dad has this nice '67 Impala parked in the driveway. I've been lusting over '67 Impalas since they came out. I was thirteen at the time. Man, Mary, they're gorgeous."

"I bet."

"Say, let me buy you dinner. We can even go to a movie if you like. There's an old cinema showing a double feature - _From Hell It Came _and _The Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman_. They're a little old, I know, but I just love old science fiction movies."

Mary looked behind her to where her family was sitting. They were mulling over something. Sam saw the hesitation in her face but it soon left when a small smile crept up on her face. She turned back to John, her bottom lip sliding in-between her teeth.

"You got a last name, Johnny?"

"Winchester. John Winchester."

"Like the rifle?"

"Exactly. Do you have a last name, Mary?"

"Mary Seraph."

"Like the angels?"

"Exactly." She cleared her throat. "Tell you what. I was going down to… Topeka, Kansas… for kicks. But, um, if you give me a ride to Lawrence, I'll let you buy me dinner and we can see if your old movies are playing somewhere."

"I like the way you think, Mary. This… it's destiny."

"Why don't we go to your house, pack up, and leave tonight?"

"Pushy much?"

"Just anxious to ride in a great muscle car with a 'Nam vet."

"Marry me."

"Don't jump the gun just yet. You barely know me."

"I don't care. You're beautiful, don't talk a lot, like adventure, know your guns, want to go to Kansas of all places, like muscle cars… you're the dream girl of every guy."

The room started to blur again, the image of John and Mary disappearing into blotches. Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head. When he reopened his eyes, he was outside of the home he only spent six months in - the home he couldn't remember. He was in the back garden. Mary was standing there, a wedding ring on her finger and a small bump under her breasts. She wore a sundress and her hair was tied up in a knot on the top of her head.

"I'm too good to you, Sammy, showing you more than I really should. I'm giving you the information of your mother that you crave, because I'm in a great mood. You see Mary was smart. She abandoned the family business of hunting because deep down she knew it was wrong. She left with Johnny, made a life in Lawrence. You left your family because you knew it was wrong. You left for education. You and your mom, you're more alike than you ever thought."

Mary knelt down in front of a bed of flowers. The ones on the end were dying, the leaves brown and the petals wilting. Reaching out a hand, she rubbed the leaf with her fingers. Slowly, the leaves turned green and the petals regained their color and flourished. A smile crossed her face as she turned her head when childish laughter started to ring throughout the backyard.

"Mommy! Help!"

Coming around the corner of the house was a three-year-old Dean. His face was red and alit with laughter. Not far behind him was John Winchester, a grin plastered on his face. Mary laughed, holding her arms open for her son to fall into. Before Dean could make it to his mother's safe arms, he tripped over his own feet. Falling to the ground, his hands shot in front of him.

"Dean!" John shouted as he picked up the pace to his son.

Mary closed the small distance between her and Dean. She scooped him up in her arms and looked him over. His hands and knees were grass stained. His left knee was red, a slow trickle of blood cascading out. Dean squirmed as big, wet tears filled his eyes.

"Ma'ic kisses, Mommy," he said quietly with a sniff.

Mary kissed the tears off Dean's face before she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the scraped knee. Dean's face lit up immediately as Mary wiped the blood away with the hem of her dress. There was no evidence that he had scraped his knee. John knelt down beside his wife and son, kissing them each on the cheek.

"Hey, Dean, you feeling better?" John asked as the boy nodded enthusiastically. "Why don't we throw around the old football? You need to perfect the fine art of spiraling before your little brother or sister comes so you can show them how to do it."

The yard spun as Sam found himself in the middle of a wooded area. He saw his father crouching with a gun clenched between his hands. The demon was next to Sam, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. Sam tried to shake the hand off, but the grip only tightened.

"You saw how good your mother was - how she gave up hunting for a better life. How her gift fit perfectly with her personality, so nurturing and pure. Now, let's see how your father's crusade of good intentions turned bad."

"Dammit!" John hissed.

A rustling came from behind Sam. He turned around to see a man with light brown hair and a day's stubble standing up. His gun was steady and trained somewhere behind John. Shots rang out as John pinned his body to the ground.

"The hell, Bill?" John shouted when the firing stopped.

"Losing your touch, Johnny. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead."

Sam craned his neck to see what his father was looking at behind him. Some sort of hell spawn laid dead behind him. A deafening scream rang throughout the woods, making Sam nearly jump out of his skin. He turned around to see that another hell spawn was ripping apart the guy named Bill. John fired several shots, knocking the thing backwards and away from the hunter.

"Bill!"

John rushed forward, falling down on his knees next to the guy. Sam stepped forward, hovering over the two. The guy was in pretty bad shape, scratches across his chest and one large slash across his face. His breathing was uneven, his face ghastly white.

"Ellen," he whispered. "Getta me… Ellen."

"Bill, you're… you're… there's no way."

"Joey…" he gasped out, "Joey-Jo."

John made to get up but Bill's hands flung forward and clenched his shirt. He was blubbering for Ellen and Jo, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. The front of John's shirt was smeared in blood as Bill desperately clung onto the fellow hunter. A rustling was heard from where John had been crouching before. He shot up, Bill's grip slipping loose. Raising his gun, John pointed towards the sound. It was silent for several minutes. All that could be heard was Bill's labored breathing.

John turned towards his friend who could barely keep his eyes open. Sam watched as his father aimed his gun at the dying man in front of him. Bill mumbled, asking John not to do it. He called for Ellen and Jo before John pulled the trigger. Shaking, John dropped the gun to the ground. He rubbed his hands over his face, his face white and his breathing heavy. Grabbing the gun, he wiped the prints before carefully putting it in Bill's hand.

Everything swirled and Sam found himself in an alleyway. John was leaning up against a dumpster, his jaw tight as he stared at the man in front of him. The man looked slightly older than John, the man's hair growing steadily gray. His eyes were dull as he stared at John, lazily twirling a coin in his hand.

"The famous John Winchester… when I heard about the way your wife died, I knew I had to meet you."

"Cut the crap. Who the hell are you?"

"Jack Emery. My wife died, car accident just before my youngest sixth-month birthday. On her six-month birthday, I go in to check on her - had a gun on me like always. I knew about demons and ghosts. My father was a hunter and his before him. Anyways, I see this demon standing over her, its blood dripping into her mouth. Shot that motherfucker full of rock salt. Didn't do anything but piss It off. It pushed me up on a wall telepathically. Then it smirked, its yellow eyes so full of… anyways, it tells me it could kill me or play a game and games were more fun. Told me to wait around for my daughter to turn twenty-two and watch as she grows into her powers. Told me she would join its demon army because she would see the light."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Rumor has it that your wife was killed by this demon on your son's six-month birthday.

"Don't presume you know anything about me or my family."

"You think I want my baby girl to go through that? Ada's only seventeen. She has an older sister who's overprotective of her. I love my girls as I'm sure you love your boys, but your younger son won't be your younger son once he's twenty-two."

"You stay the hell away from my son."

"You want him to be a murderer? I can't sit back and watch Ada become a murderer."

"You're going to kill your own daughter because some demon told you she was going to turn evil? You're crazy."

"You're going to have to kill him sooner or later, Winchester; and I suggest sooner rather than later… before it's too late."

Sam watched as his father grabbed the guy by the collar, ramming him backwards into a brick building. John's right hand let go of the collar. He pulled his arm back and allowed his fist to connect to the fellow hunter's jaw. A scuffle started. John had the upper hand due to his military training. He quickly got the older hunter on the ground, too exhausted to fight back. John's lip was split open, a small trail of blood running from his nose, but all and all fine.

"Who else knows?"

"Like I'd tell you, Winchester."

"Who else knows about my son?" John pulled back his fist and punched the man in the jaw. "Who else knows about Sammy?"

"What're you gonna do? Kill 'em?"

"Damn right I'm going to kill them! I'm going to kill them all before they do something stupid and murder my son!"

"I'm not tellin' ya a thin'," he slurred.

John grabbed the guy, pulling him upwards before pushing him back against the building. He pulled a knife out and shoved it into the man's stomach, twisting the knife before pulling it out. Emery gasped, blood dripping from his mouth as he slid down the wall and fell into a heap on the floor. John breathed heavily as he wiped the blood from the blade onto Emery's shirt.

The alleyway disappeared. When the world around him became clear again, Sam saw Dean lying on the floor. He was panting hard, staring up at an older woman who held a cloth doll in her hand and needles in the other. His gun wasn't that far away from him, nearly in arms reach.

"Your daddy killed more hunters who were associated in Emery's little group. Five of them in all, but we don't need to see the grisly details now do we, Sammy?" The demon patted him on the back. "Time to watch Dean kill an innocent."

"She doesn't look so innocent."

"No, not her. The old broad is a voodoo priestess. Ooh, don't much care for them myself. The needle thing really creeps me out. He's going to kill someone else. Someone who doesn't know what exactly she was doing."

Sam watched Dean wither on the floor as the older woman shoved needle after needle into the voodoo doll in her hand. Swallowing hard, Sam was starting to believe that everything the demon showed him was true. It all seemed to fit.

_"I was working my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans_," Dean's words rang in Sam's head.

_"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"_

_"I'm 26, Dude."_

The woman placed another needle into the doll, one directly in the left eye. Dean grunted in pain as his hand groped for the gun. Somehow, he managed to grip it. He swung it around and shot the priestess twice. Her body slumped to the floor as Dean staggered up. Bending down, he grabbed the voodoo doll in his hand and took out the needles wincing in pain each time.

"Sonofabitch," he muttered.

Dean ripped the doll opened before discarding it to the floor. His gun was still clenched in his right hand as he panted. Out of nowhere, he doubled over in pain. He hit the floor, turning around. Sam followed his brother's gaze to a girl no more than ten standing in the doorframe with a voodoo doll clenched in her hand.

"Grandma-ma always says ya need a backup."

Dean raised his hand and fired at the small child. He hit her twice, the doll falling from her hands. His eyes widened, his hand shaking. Getting up slowly, he walked to the girl to check for a pulse.

"Killed a little girl who didn't know any better. Didn't even hesitate. Did you notice, Sammy?"

"He didn't mean to kill her," Sam reasoned as he watched his brother cradle the small girl in his arms.

"He's a hunter… a killer."

Everything swirled again and Sam was standing in an empty room. The demon was in front of him, a solemn look on his face. It seemed like he was preparing himself for a serious talk, one without the sarcastic drawl filling his words.

"Some things are just plain evil. Vampires, werewolves… let the hunters kill them. We don't do anything, Sammy. Sure we possess some people, but we only kill when we have to. It's survival of the fittest, seeing whose going to get immunity week after week. You can make a difference, Sam, stop the fighting. Join me and prosper. You can't do anything while in hell."

Author's Notes - So, this was the longest chapter thus far but not by much since I did some nice editing for once except there's still probably still some grammar mistakes. Next chapter you'll see Sam's decision and Dean will make an appearance. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think.


	8. God's Gonna Cut You Down

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Eight: God's Gonna Cut You Down"**

Sam's face was secure in-between Dean's hands. He didn't know how long he crouched beside his little brother, holding him, willing him to just open his eyes. He only vaguely registered Savannah next to him, reaching out to untie the binds that were still around his wrists. Once the rope was off, Dean turned to her with a vacant expression crossing his features. He was responsible for the woman and had to get her out, but there was no way in hell he could leave Sam. Letting go of his brother face, Dean reached over to Savannah.

"Look, you gotta get out," Dean managed to say as he untied her wrists. "Just… go home."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I can't leave Sammy," he told her as he gently brushed a piece of hair out of Sam's eyes.

"We'll take him with us."

Dean glanced at Savannah briefly before returning his gaze to his brother. There was no way that they could carry Sam out the door without anyone noticing. He was too big and heavy. If they were caught, they were all dead. Running a hand over his face, Dean knew that he couldn't leave Sammy with the demon. Who knew what they would do to him.

"Just go."

"Dean…"

"I said go. You've helped me enough."

Savannah was about to say something when not five feet away a burst of fire came from the floor. They both flinched back as they saw the demon appear with a cocky smirk on his face. He walked forward until he was kneeling down beside Sam. Dean's eyes locked with his sickening yellow ones.

"You bastard," Dean started as his grip on Sam tightened. "You killed him… you killed my mom… you killed my dad… now I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, Sammy's not dead - at least not yet. I would never kill Sam. He's my favorite," the demon said quietly. "Nah, you're going to kill him, Dean, before he kills you. You see, Sammy's… not going to be Sam anymore. When he wakes up, the first thing he's going to do is kill you and the girl. So I'd step away now before you give him a one up."

"Why should I believe _you_?" he spat.

"Oh, you don't have to. It's up to you. I'm just saying, seeing Daddy in hell and then revisiting the low points of hunting - the killing of innocents, it'll turn a smart guy like Sammy against hunters. I didn't turn him, if that's what you're thinking. He had a choice. This was his choice. Your dad told him to make this choice because you would know what to do. Such blind faith John has in you. He actually thinks you'll kill your brother."

Dean looked down at his little brother, contemplating what the demon was saying. He knew he shouldn't trust anything it had to say; but at the mention of John, Dean couldn't help but hear the words his father told him nearly nine months before. The words that had haunted his dreams for months.

_"You have to protect your brother, save him. Nothing else matters. If you can't protect Sammy, then you have to kill him, Dean."_

Licking his lips, Dean stared at his brother. He was still limp, cool to the touch. The blood was now caked on his graying face. A hand gripped his elbow. Looking back, he noticed that Savannah was white in the face with a trail of tears down her cheeks. Her eyes pleaded for him to say something, to reassure her in the whole situation. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes locked on his face.

"You like that little addition?" the demon asked causing Dean to look at him. "You see, Dean, I had this all figured out. I knew I had to separate you from Sam, distract you with what your life could have been. Hell, it didn't take much for the Djinn to help me. I told him to be messy, call attention to himself. Then when Dean Winchester came busting in, let him dream about his what could have been. You see, Dean, you were right. The Djinn doesn't grant you wishes, but they do show you a different path your life could have taken, the path that the person craves for most. If your mom never died, that would have been your life. I just… pulled a few favors. I had the Djinn change little Savvy's name because I knew you'd look for her. With the wrong name, it would take you longer, distract you more. Underestimated me, didn't you?"

Sam's head twitched underneath Dean's hands. His gazed snapped from the demon down to his brother's face. Sam's eyes were fluttering, his head jerking slightly from side to side. Dean held his breath as he rubbed his brother's cheek gently with his thumb.

"I just had to call attention to Lawrence," the demon continued, "to where Savvy was. It was all planned out, what Max did. He was supposed to shot you in that warehouse right where it'd hurt. I made sure you were shot a night when she was working, made sure Sam wasn't hurt right away. You were busy with your little dream life, so consumed that you didn't worry about Sammy. That's when I took him, knowing you were safe in the hospital with a nice intimate, female distraction. It worked out perfectly, better than I thought it would. I was amazed everything went according to plan."

Dean's heart hammered in his aching chest. The demon's words were pounding in his head making him feel guilty as hell. He had been distracted, had fallen right into that son-of-a-bitch's plan from the beginning. He didn't question it, didn't think it suspicious that he so quickly found the girl from his Djinn reality. Dean hated himself, not knowing what to do if Sam was different when he woke up. Sam's eyes opened, brown orbs staring up at Dean without any recognition.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered.

Before Dean could say anything else, he was flung backwards towards the wall as though by an invisible string, Savannah screaming as her hand let go of his arm. His back collided hard with the wall. With the impact, he grunted in pain as he fell to a heap on the cold floor. Vision blurry, he looked up at his brother. Sam was sitting up, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead in attempt to get rid of the blood that was splattered there. He looked different, moved differently His eyes were cold, his jaw tight.

"Make the hunter hurt, make him bleed before you end his life," the demon commanded as Sam stood up. "Show some mercy to the girl. She's just a tool."

Shaking his head, Dean tried to fight back the pain so he wouldn't pass out. The demon was gone, but Sammy was advancing on him. Savannah had backed up to the nearest wall, panting hard. Dean knew he didn't have the strength to fight Sam, not that he would if he could. Somewhere inside was his little brother who was probably screaming for whatever was controlling him to stop.

Sam was mere inches away from Dean. His hand flung out and grabbed Dean by the neck, dragging him up the wall effortlessly. Sam's jaw was tight, his eyes void of any emotion. Dean tried to speak but found that he couldn't. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Savannah run over to the door. She started pounding her fists on it, shouting for help. Dean focused his gaze back at Sam, his eyes pleading silently at his brother. The hand around his neck only tightened, and Dean began gasping for breath as his hands feebly clawed at Sam's wrist.

"You're a murderer," Sam's voice was cold and didn't sound anything like the brother Dean knew, "a murdering hunter."

Sam's hand left Dean's neck, causing him to fall to the ground again. His body was aching, his chest feeling as though it were on fire. Reaching out a hand, Dean grabbed onto Sam's pant leg desperately.

"Sammy," he managed to gasp out, "don't. Not you."

"Please! Somebody!" Savannah cried out, her pounding reduced to a pathetic knock. "He's going to kill him!"

"Step back!" a voice shouted from the other end of the door.

Dean heard the door being kicked open but didn't see who came in. Sam tensed before he punched his brother in the face. A familiar male voice swore, but Dean couldn't make out whom the voice belonged to. His vision was blurry, the room in blotches. Sam's silhouette had disappeared. He felt two pairs of hands grabbing him by the armpits, hauling him off the floor before everything went black.

When Dean woke up, he first noticed he was lying on something incredibly too soft. The pain in his chest was only a dull ache. His throat was dry, and he was too hot for his liking. Opening an eye, he stared up at the smooth white ceiling. Turning to the right, Dean met a familiar site. A plasma TV was attached to the russet walls. The sheets were white and felt familiar. On the nightstand was an envelope addressed:

Savannah Kline

#53 Barker Avenue

Lawrence, Kansas 66044

Dean turned the letter over in his hand, images of his name being connected with the same address - images of Carmen Porter's name being attached to the address. Tossing the letter onto the nightstand, he struggled to sit up. His ribs protested, but he fought back the pain. The bedroom looked familiar but not everything was the same. Little knicknacks, the position of the dresser, and other small things were off in the room.

Rolling off the bed, Dean ran a hand over the white bandage wrapped around his torso. Making his way into the hallway, he turned left and entered the living room. The room looked more wrong than the bedroom had. The furniture was completely different - the fuzzy orange chair, the suede sofa, the guitar were absent. All of the pictures of him and his family were gone as were pictures of him and Carmen or Savannah or whatever her name was. Everything was so jumbled in his mind that Dean didn't know if he was dreaming or not. It was too surreal.

Soft voices coming from the kitchen stirred Dean out of his daydream. Slowly he made his way into the next room to see the table filled with people. Savannah stood with a coffee pot in her right hand, pouring the contents into mugs. Ellen, Ash, and Bobby sat around the table. All heads turned to Dean when he walked in, sympathy shining in their eyes. Savannah offered a tight smile.

"How long was I out?"

Dean hated the way his voice cracked, the rough quality it held. He waited for a response but only saw the three hunters sharing a knowing glance. He watched as Savannah bowed her head to poor Ellen some more coffee. Bobby was the one who looked up first, clearing his throat as though to buy him more time.

"Almost 48 hours."

"Excuse me?"

"Your body needed time to heal… to rest."

"Where's Sam?" he demanded as everyone seemed to squirm uncomfortably in their seats. "_Where's_ _Sam_?"

"He got away," Bobby replied.

"Got away? What do you mean?"

He stumbled forward, sinking down in the nearest chair. Heart pounding hard in his chest, he looked at everyone in the kitchen trying to figure out what was going on. Surely, they had gotten Sam. They wouldn't have just left him. They could have subdued him, tied him up, and fixed whatever was wrong with him.

"Dean, Sam isn't Sam anymore."

"Don't say that! Don't you dare say that!"

"He's not Sam. He's lost-"

"Then we gotta find him."

"He's lost within himself. He's been taken over."

"We hafta help him. He's my… he's my brother. I can't sit back and watch him kill, and I can't let anyone do him in. What am I supposed to do? He's Sammy.. the little kid who used to ask a million questions and yap all day about school all the damn time. We gotta - we gotta help him, make him right again. We can't just give up on the kid. We can do this. We can fix this, make it better. This is Sammy we're talking about… we can't just turn our backs on him."

"You need to rest, Dean."

"I've been resting!"

"Savannah says you're still recovering from extensive injuries."

"What does she know?"

"She's a nurse - went to study medicine. The whole nine yards. She knows a lot more than you do about this!"

Dean buried his head in his hands, rubbing his palms forcefully on his eyes until he saw a mixture of colors. A lot could happen in two days, and Dean didn't know where to start. Sam was out here, broken by the demon to be some ruthless killer. _Sammy_. The little kid who'd get upset if his brother or father unnesessarily killed an insect or bug. He wasn't a killer, didn't have it in his bones. Hell, he got guilty just looking at porn. Sam could fight it as long as they helped him.

"Dean, Sweetie, Ash is looking for Sam right now," Ellen commented as she reached out and encased her hand on his.

"Nothing yet? You couldn't find anything in two days?" he questioned as he pulled his hand away.

"Dean, Man, this is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. He could be anywhere," Ash told him. "He wants to stay hidden, he could easily do that."

"Why don't we go back to the warehouse, see if there was anything we missed last time?" Bobby suggested.

"I'm game," Ellen volunteered.

"I'm going to hook up in the living room, try some video feed hacking for Lawrence and surrounding areas," Ash commented.

"Dean, we'll call you if we find anything or if we need some help," Ellen told him as she squeezed his shoulder.

The three hunters left the room leaving Dean and Savannah by themselves. She poured two more cups of coffee, sitting one in front of him and the other nursed in-between her hands. Taking a seat next to him, she glanced at him before turning her attention to the steaming mug.

"They told me what you, uh, do for a living," she started. "Well, you told me but they explained it in more detail than I ever needed to know."

"Yeah, well, it's the family business."

"Apparently there's this whole community of hunters."

"You don't think I know that?" Dean asked dryly.

"You'll find Sam and fix this."

"You know… when I was four, that yellow-eyed demon came to my house. Sammy was only six months. The bastard killed our mom, set the house on fire. Our dad, he gave Sam to me and told me to get him out. Ever since then I felt responsible for the kid like it was my job to protect him. My dad, he died about nine months ago. The last thing he ever said to me was to protect Sammy… to save him." He let out a dry laugh. "I can never do anything right. I let down my dad… I let down Sammy. What if I can't help him? What if it's too late to save him? How am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to live with knowing that it's all my fault because I'm a shitty big brother?"

His throat felt tight, a lump in his chest. He felt the hot wetness roll down his cheek and tasted the salty water as it slid into his mouth. Everything was twisted, his mind numb. He let down Sam. He didn't protect him like he promised he would since he was four years old.

"Do you know what it's like? Being responsible for someone and to let them down? I had one job, and I screwed it up. I… I always told him not to worry because I'd be there. I'd protect him. Ever since I can remember, I always told him everything was going to be all right because he had me for a big brother and over my dead body would I let anything ever happen to him. I blew it. I blew it big." He paused, glancing over at her. "So, you see, I have to help him. I have to do this. He's my brother… he's my best friend… he's the only family I have left, the only person who means something to me. I lost sight of that with my dad dying and getting sucked into this reality where we're together."

"I don't understand that."

"There's these… creatures called Djinns, genies. They don't grant wishes, per say, they induce you into this dream-like state of what could have been. I was in this dream reality where my mom never died, my dad never became a hunter, and we lived normal apple pie lives. I worked at a garage, and I lived here with you. Except, the place was decorated a little differently. Doesn't matter really because I don't live that life."

"So… um, I'm really sorry about Sam."

"Me too."

"What are you going to do?"

"Everything I have to to get him back to the way he was before."

"Is that even possible?"

"I'll make it possible if it's the last thing I do."

Author's Notes - Another chapter is up. Please review and tell me what you think. I'm barely getting reviews so I have no idea if I'm doing a good job or if I'm just butchering everything. So if you took the time to read, please take the time to review. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing. I do love to hear your thoughts. Big thanks to Brigid who is always pointing out my mistakes. It helps a lot.


	9. Thinking About You

**"Whirlwind"**

**"Chapter Nine: Thinking About You"**

After hacking into every surveillance feed within a hundred mile radius of Lawrence, Ash turned up nothing on Sam. He went as far as searching through any of the fake credit cards the youngest Winchester had as well as his cell phone records. Nada turned up. Bobby and Ellen had returned to the apartment with nothing, not even the faintest trace of sulfur. It was as though the whole warehouse had been cleaned top to bottom. Dean felt like he was at the end of his rope, a deep ache filling his chest. Sam was nowhere to be found - a homicidal Sam nonetheless.

Dean knew that they needed manpower to find his brother; however, he wasn't too big on trusting. There had been too many times Dean was betrayed by those he allowed himself to trust. He had seen that not all hunters were willing to help their own. There were only two people that Dean had trusted without question: John and Sam. With John dead and Sam not quite himself, Dean was beside himself. Even a hunter that Bobby and Ellen trusted could turn out to be a mistake. Foolishly, he had trusted Gordon Walker - a man who he sought comfort in after his father's death, a guy who turned out to be a nut job who tried to kill Sammy.

_"__One day he's going to be a monster,"_ Gordon's voice rang in his head. _"It's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you."_

Drowning the last of his beer, Dean stared at the hunters across the kitchen table. They were all telling him they didn't know where to go from here. Just wait it out, Ash had said. Let Sam come to us, Bobby continued. We'll find him one way or anothing but right now we don't know where to look, Ellen added. They could all give their comforting words, their sympathic smiles, their pitiful eyes but it meant nothing. They didn't care for Sam like he did. Sam wasn't their brother, their only family.

"What are you thinking about doing?" Savannah asked as she took a seat next to him.

The three hunters left to go back to their motel room for the night. Savannah offered her apartment up to them but they had refused. Instead, Dean was the only one staying with her. They were all weary about the FBI still being in Lawrence, snooping around to find the Winchester brothers so it was suggested that Dean stay in one place. In all honesty, Dean could care less if the FBI was hot on his trail or not. His only concern was Sammy.

"I have to find him. How the hell can I find him? The cell phone was ditched so I can't track him that way. He's not using credit cards, he's avoiding cameras…"

"I don't know much about this… _hunting_ stuff, demons and whatnot, but are psychics real? I mean, I read this article about psychometry once-"

"A psychic," Dean whispered. "Missouri."

"You're going to Missouri?"

"No, my dad knew this psychic named Missouri. She lives here. Except… she can't find people. It doesn't work that way."

"Maybe she could sense him if he was still in Lawrence?" Savannah suggested. "I'm being annoying aren't I? I'm sorry, I've been doing a lot of research ever since… you know."

Thinking about Missouri, Dean wondered if she could help them. It was a lost cause, he knew it. When Sam and him visited her before, she told them that she could not help them locate their father. Why would it be any different now? Swallowing hard, Dean got up from the table and started to pace. Sammy was special, maybe the psychic could somehow tap into his mind. Maybe, just maybe, Missouri could help him locate his brother.

"Do you know if my car's parked outside this place?"

"Um, no… Ash - is that his name? - took your car."

"Great," Dean muttered. "Do you think you can give me a lift?"

Irritated beyond all else that his car was taken away from him so he wouldn't make any rash decisions, he hauled his frame into the familiar Mustang. Savannah sighed in the driver's seat as she twisted the key in the ignition. Pulling out of the parking garage, Dean leaned forward to turn on the radio. He couldn't stand the quiet. So many thoughts were flying through his head, scenarios flashing through his mind each one worse than the one before. Journey blared out of the speakers causing Savannah to reach over and turn it down.

Six Journey songs later and the Mustang was parked outside of the worn looking cream house. Dean was out of the car before the engine was even killed. By the time Savannah was out of the car, Dean was all ready pounding his fist against door. The door was swung open and Missouri Mosley stood in a fuzzy robe with her hands resting on her hips. Her hard expression was gone as soon as it came, her hands reaching out for Dean.

"Oh, Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said soothingly.

She stepped aside to allow Dean to enter. Her dark eyes then spotted Savannah standing on the porch steps, uncertainty clouding her features. Missouri motioned for the girl to come inside. Dean waited impatiently in the entranceway, rubbing the scruffy beard that graced his face. Missouri ushered them both into the living room.

"You really don't have any idea where Sam is?" she questioned as she sat down in a chair across from the couch where the newcomers sat. "How long has he been missing?"

"It's not just that-" Dean started.

"Oh, dear. This is what John was afraid of. I didn't quite understand at first… but now it all makes perfect sense."

"What do you mean? When was the last time you even talked to my dad?"

"Your daddy is the most stubborn man I've ever met in my life. He was here, in Lawrence, over a year ago when you and Sam had the job with your old house. He stayed here, stayed hidden in the shadows - told me that he couldn't see you boys because it was too dangerous. I said, John Winchester, those are you boys and they deserve to see you. He was so adamant, snapping at me whenever I accidentally read him. As though I can control it."

Dean didn't have time to be irritated at his father, didn't have pleasure to question farther about why John would purposely not seen them. His mind was wrapping around what Missouri knew about Sam, what she had read from their father.

"You read my dad? What- what was he thinking?"

"About the demon… about Sam's abilities… how the two were connected."

"He told me if I couldn't save Sammy, then I'd have to kill him," Dean choked. "Is this what he meant? Am I supposed to kill my little brother? How can he expect me to do that?"

"Dean, Sweetie, I did intercept some thoughts of John thinking about killing Sam…"

"He's lost, Missouri. He just needs help. Tell me you know how to help him."

"Demons aren't really my forte. All I knew is that it was real evil that took your mom that night, and I merely pointed John in the right direction."

"What do you mean?"

"I introduced John to a few hunters, get him started in the game."

"Who?"

"Daniel Elkins, Bobby Singer, and Jim Murphy."

"Do you know the Roadhouse crew?"

"Not personally. John talked about them a few times though. Said he thought he could trust the Bill and Ellen until..."

Dean leaned forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. He lazily looked at Missouri as though trying to figure her out. Pastor Jim was the one person John trusted most. He entrusted the good pastor to look after his kids which was a feat that no other hunter had acquired over the years. If the pastor was still alive, Dean was certain he would turn to the wise man for guidance. Missouri had introduced the two, so perhaps he could take that leap of faith and trust her.

"Is there anything I can do to help him? Get him back to his normal self?"

"From what I can gather about the situation, Sam died. I'm not positive that there is anything you can do. It could merely be a demon using Sam's body now and his soul could very much be gone."

"No, he's in there somewhere. There was another psychic, Max Miller… Sam told me that the kid talked about how the demon was a savior. That doesn't really scream possession to me but more like a psychotic kid who thinks that the demon is the next Jim Jones."

"If Sam's still connected to his body, then we might be able to help him."

"How do we go about that? You got some magical herbs you can cook up for me?" Dean faltered at the look the psychic gave him. "Sorry… Ma'am. Uh, but, Bobby said that he was lost inside his body so I think there is a good chance that he's in there somewhere."

"If he's trapped, my best guess would to be to trigger him. Do you understand what I'm saying, Boy?"

"Yes… no idea."

"Sometimes, with possessions, if a possessed gets enough emotional strength, they can override the demon possessing them. Now, if Sam is trapped inside his own body with no control, sort of like a possession, then enough emotional strength can help him push away the curtains."

"So even if Sammy's not possessed, if I trigger the right memories… if he realizes I'm there he can break through?"

"In theory, Dean, I'm not saying it would work."

Leaning back on the afghan, he thought back to when John had been possessed. He had pleaded for his father to stop as the demon tortured him. He remembered that John had broken through the possession, pushed that yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch back just long enough for Sam to get free and grab the Colt.

_"You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, Son!"_

After he found Sam, he'd just have to make the emotional connection he made with his father. He had to plead to Sam, help him to fight off whatever demonic control the demon had over his little brother's body. It was Sam's only shot… it was _their_ only shot. Dean looked up at Missouri. He could feel her reading him, digging into his thoughts. He didn't know if it was intentional or not and he couldn't give a damn. He had what he needed. It had to work.

"Thanks," Dean said as he stood up wincing slightly. "You really helped. I just gotta find Sam now."

"Dean, Sweetie, you listen to that pretty girl, okay?" Her head inclined towards Savannah. "Don't overexert yourself or wind up back in the hospital. You'll be no good to Sam there."

"You're like one of those cheesy after school specials," he said with a slight grin. "Don't overexert… don't do drugs…"

"I mean it, Dean Winchester! You call me if you need anything. Let Bobby help you."

He nodded, keeping his lips together tightly. Savannah followed him out of the house and to the car. Getting in, Dean felt a small weight lift off his chest. He knew how to save Sammy now. All that he needed to do was get the Impala back and find his brother. Everything would work out. He had to believe that, drill it into his brain to keep him sane. There was no way he could function if he thought the worst, if he didn't believe that he could break whatever hold was over Sam.

The next morning, the three hunters appeared at the apartment with ample amounts of books, research, and a trusty laptop. Ash set up in the kitchen while Ellen and Bobby took the living room. Savannah, who had called in a family emergency at work the last few days, finally went back to the hospital entrusting Dean with her home. Dean sat with Ash, trying to figure out where Sam and the other psychics would go. If Lawrence was a set up to get Sam, where would their next set up be?

"No demonic signs cropping up, still no credit card usage, no guys matching Sam's description has checked into a motel room using any of the aliases you gave me, no video feed as of yet… I don't know what to tell you, Man. It's a big negative on everything Sam."

"Look, I know how to deal with Sam," Dean started, "and I'm afraid that Ellen and Bobby think that killing Sam is the only way. So I need you to get my car back here, and I need you to tell me when he pops up on your computer. He's bound to come out sooner or later, you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, Man, yeah. You want me to inform you when I get a hit on Sam but leave the old geezers out of it?"

"Exactly."

"Lying to Ellen… that's really asking a lot from me. What do I get out of it?"

"A PBR, my friend."

"Make it two and you got yourself a deal," Ash replied with a smirk.

"I knew I always liked you."

Several counties away from Lawrence, Sam Winchester and Max Miller sat in a van outside of a motel. Sam's hands were tight around the steering wheel, his eyes shut tightly. Somewhere, deep down inside, he knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that he should just knock Max out and go find someone to help him. Swallowing hard, he was snapped out of his thoughts when Max started talking to him. He was explaining what to do, what would make their savior proud.

Opening the glove department, Sam pulled out a knife. He twisted it in his hand before getting out of the van and walking to room 12. On the way, he saw a surveillance camera - exactly what he was looking for. Looking directly at the red blinking light, he smirked before giving the thumbs up. The savior said that murdering hunters were trying to track them that way. The one he was told to kill before but failed was tracking him that way. That hunter needed to come, so he could finish the job.

Knocking on the motel room, Sam glanced down at his watch. It was nearly nine at night. The door opened until the chain was taut. He smirked at the brunette that peered out of the small space. She let out a small laugh of disbelief before the door closed. The chain rustled before the door opened again.

"Sam? Sam Winchester? How did you even know I was here in Kansas of all places?"

"It's what I do, Sarah, I find people. It's part of the job description."

Sarah Blake smiled warmly before stepping aside to allow the newcomer to come inside. He stepped through the threshold and looked around the motel room. It was a nicer motel than most, not decorated in an outlandish theme. The door shut behind Sam, causing him to turn around.

"I just arrived," she commented. "That's why I'm so surprised to see you here. I mean… that last time we saw each other was about a year ago."

"I was in town, and I saw you driving," he told her. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, my dad, you remember him? Buckets of sunshine. He's in Europe trying to find some artwork to auction off. He e-mails me yesterday telling me I had to get to Kansas to meet an aspiring artist by the name of Ted Nugent. Honestly, anyone who uses a stage name like that, can he really be any good? Wouldn't you want your own name to go with your work instead of some musician? What about you? You and Dean ghost busting around here?"

"Something like that. I am hunting here though."

"So my dad set me up with these accommodations, classy huh? I guess Mister Nugent is fearful of hotels," she joked as she walked to a mini fridge. "I mean, this motel, they have a mini bar. A mini bar filled with beer. It's so elegant I can't get over it. My penny-pinching father finally hit a new low. I hate motels. They have the worst beds."

Sarah opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. Handing one to Sam, he took it and immediately started to drink. Sarah chuckled softly before opening hers and taking a sip. Pulling the bottle away from her lips, she looked up at Sam with a disgusted look on her face. Her nose scrunched up as she stuck out her tongue as though to get the taste out of her mouth.

"It tastes more like bitter water than beer."

"You know, Sarah, I'm really sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"That you have to get in the middle of all of this."

"Sam?"

The smile on her face fell as she watched Sam set down his bottle on the floor. Cracking his knuckles, he advanced towards her. Sarah stumbled backwards until her back was pinned on the wall. The bottle dangled from her fingertips before tightening around the top.

"Hi, I'm Ted Nugent," he said with a smirk. "Actually, I'm your daddy too. I sent you that e-mail, and I made these shitty accommodations for you."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me? Sarah, nothing is wrong with me. I've seen the light." He rubbed his chin as he let out a small breathy laugh. "You know, I used to think _Dean_ was a hero, that he was some sort of godsend. I idolized him for years, ever since I could remember. You used to tell me not to worry, everything would be okay, that he'd always be there to save me. Except, he's a liar and a cheat and a murderer. I found this guy, Sarah, he's a savior. He showed me so much, really opened my eyes. I'm sorry I have to do this to you, but you're bait. No hard feelings though, okay?"

Tears burned Sarah's eyes as her gaze darted to the door across the room. Gripping the bottle harder, she brought it up as quickly as she could. Beer drizzled out of the top as she swung it at Sam. He grabbed her wrist tightly before ramming it into the wall behind her. She whimpered as the bottle slipped from her fingertips and crashed to the floor.

"Did you really have to do that? I thought we came to an understanding."

"You're not Sam," she whispered as tears ran down her face. "You're not him!"

"Oh, Darling, I'm better than Sam. Sammy Winchester… how pathetic was he? Followed his brother around like a sick puppy dog, following orders until he tried to grow a pair by running off to Stanford like the fuckin' coward his daddy said he was. That part of me, that _I'm so pure and innocent with my floppy hair and sad eyes_ part of me is gone. I'm a better person. The man I was telling you about? The savior? I owe him so much."

"Sam, please, this isn't you," she whimpered as his grip on her wrist tightened.

"Save your blubbering for when I rip the flesh off your bones."

In Lawrence, Dean's cell phone rang. Quirking open an eye, he turned to the nightstand and saw Ash's number shining in the bluish tint. He sat up in bed as he flipped the phone open, placing it against his ear. His eyes lingered down to Savannah sleeping soundly next to him. Her pajamas were twisted around her small frame.

"Yeah?"

_"I've got a hit on Sam. He's at a motel about two hours drive from here."_

Dean's heart pounded in his chest as he looked over at the blinking clock next to the bed. 1:23. Running a hand through his hair, Dean swung his legs over the bed and hoisted himself up. He grabbed his leather jacket that was hung over a chair and made his way to the front door.

"Is he checking in?"

_"No, but, Dean, Man, this is a trap. He looked right in the camera. He knows we're watching him, and he's waiting for you."_

"Are there any hunters staying there that you know of?"

_"No one I recognize. Then again, Bobby or Ellen might know but I can't ask them for the sake of those PBR's."_

"Give me the names."

_"Sylvia Henson. Marcus Fletcher. Polly Jacobs. Wesley Whells. Sarah Blake. Ned-"_

"Sarah Blake?" Dean faltered. "You've got to be kidding me."

Author's Note - Another chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed. Next chapter: Sam and Dean show down. I'm excited to write it. Reviews are welcomed, so do click the little button and spend 30 seconds writing something. I do read them all and take in consideration of the suggestions I get - not that I got any for this story so far. Oh well. I just hope you enjoyed.


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